Double Vision
by Laura Picken
Summary: Continues the "Four Winds" series. When you have unresolved issues with someone, it can feel like you're carrying around that person inside your head: nagging you, taunting you, pushing you to do things you know you don't want to do. But what if that person is a serial killer?
1. Chapter 1

Four Winds: Double Vision

A Castle Fantasy AU

By Laura Picken

This story is in the continuing series of Castle fan fiction based on my fantasy alternate universe story "Four Winds". If you want to read the story, click on my author page, otherwise, here's a quick summary: Castle, Beckett, Lanie, Esposito and Ryan are struck by ball lighting in the loft on a dark and stormy poker night and wind up with superpowers: Ryan's a powerful telepath, Esposito can get your entire life story by shaking your hand, Beckett has five super-heightened senses and can speak to the dead, Lanie can heal the living by touch, and Castle's a wizard. There's other scattered abilities here and there, but that's the basic gist of it. Not freaked out by the concept yet? Then read on and enjoy :-).

For very loose timeline purposes, Castle fans can place this somewhere in the post-"Always" future: Castle and Beckett are a firmly established couple, Beckett's back on the force and Ryan has fought his way out of the doghouse. There will be various minor spoilers to the US season five (everything past "After the Storm").

DISCLAIMER: Castle, Beckett, et al. are property of Andrew W. Marlowe and ABC. The legends described herein are inventions of my own twisted imagination and should not be taken to reflect the traditions of any particular group. All non-English language phrases are courtesy of Google Translate, so please forgive me if I get anything unintentionally wrong.

One last thing: This fic is going to be *dark*. Scary, angsty, whatever you want to call it. The first half of this story, in particular, will be the darkest of the series. This will skirt the closest I'll ever get to the line between T and M - let's just call it a really hard T. So you'll need to know two things: 1) this story will be graphically violent and 2) I don't do major character death. I may get some of them roaringly close to death, but I promise you they *will* survive.

Okay, enough business, let the adventure begin!

* * *

He was pacing the kitchen anxiously, waiting for her to get home. It wasn't a breathless, lust-filled anticipation, although he was incredibly aroused at the moment. That kind of anticipation should only be found in romance novels and terrible, sappy 'chick flicks'. No, this was far more exciting than that.

This was strategy.

This was planning.

This was preparation moved to action.

This was the thunderous crescendo of a well-crafted symphony.

This...this was a *climax*.

He took deep, calming breaths through his nose, trying to slow down the pounding of his racing heartbeat. His heart stopped, though, as he heard the fumbling of keys outside the front door, the smooth click of the right key bypassing all the tumblers and turning the lock open, then the quiet creak as the door opened, allowing the key's owner to enter the apartment. He ducked behind the kitchen island, buying himself a few more precious moments to build up his adrenaline for when he would soon be springing into action. He heard the soft plop of mail dropping on an end table and the gentle thud of bare feet hitting the floor as those feet were removed from high-heeled shoes with a weary groan of relief.

Finally, the moment arrived. He saw the flash of bottle blond hair before the woman wheeled around to open the refrigerator and peer in. He pulled her into a deadly embrace, holding the woman just below his chest and using his well-muscled arms to cover her nose and mouth. She struggled, to be sure, but the feel of being able to control such an squirmy, active little thing with his touch was just *glorious*.

It was over far too quickly, though, as the woman fell limp in his arms. _Now,_ he thought, _what should we do together?_ Looking around the room, he considered his options. Posing her on the floor, or in the bed? Nah. He'd done that so often it was starting to feel cliché, even to him. He looked up at the ceiling with a mixture of fondness and fury, for while the kill had gone as planned, the resulting game hadn't been nearly as much fun to play as he had thought it would be.

That left...the bathroom. He smiled. It was perfect. While cuts were a wonderfully effective medium to send messages, it was so...messy. And absolute murder to clean up properly afterwards. But in the bathtub, placed properly...all the cleanup was done for him. And he did so very much love to be creative, clean *and* efficient. Plus, wasn't there some religion somewhere that talked about some combination of water and blood setting you free? _How very, very appropriate... _

He lifted up his cooling, tiny bundle, cradling her in his strong arms as he walked through the studio apartment to her bathroom. He stripped the woman of her clothes, taking time to appreciate the woman's delicate features and wisp-thin physique before placing her gently in the tub and piling her clothes next to the nearby toilet. Taking out his trusty original Swiss Army knife, he carefully cut a pattern, first into her right wrist and then into her left, moving his gloved hands with practiced speed to avoid getting blood on them. He then started to fill the tub with warm water when he spotted a bottle of bubble bath near the tub. Thrilled to be able to add the extra detail, he opened the jar, sniffed the lavender fragrance appreciatively, and poured the liquid into the tub as it filled, foaming up around his lovely plaything.

The woman let out a small groan as the warm water rose to the level of her waist. _No, no, no, _he thought, _this won't do at all... _He carved a necklace of blood into the woman's neck, which gurgled with air bubbles as the windpipe opened up beneath his carving work. The woman slipped slowly underneath the bubble-filled bathtub, and he couldn't help but smile as he watched the water continue to flow...

* * *

Kevin Ryan woke up with a start, gasping for air with gulping, panicked breaths. He shook his head, trying to calm his oddly swirling emotions even as he was swiftly losing his grasp of why he was having those emotions in the first place. _Must have been one hell of a nightmare, _he thought, noticing the imprint of sweat that his entire body seemed to have left on the sheets around him. It only took one long intake of breath, though, before he realized that that imprint had been left by more than just sweat. Cursing his body's failings, he made a mental note to apologize to Jenny in the morning as he got up to go to the bathroom and make sure his bladder would *not* betray him again.

It was then that he noticed his legs weren't holding up his body weight like they should have been. In fact, his whole body seemed to be shaking. _What the hell? _was all he could think. He forced himself to a standing position, then carefully shuffled the few feet to the adjoining bathroom. Not trusting himself to continue standing, he sat down to use the toilet and calm his racing heartbeat.

The time it took for his pulse to return to normal seemed like an eternity, but finally, Ryan felt like he would be able to stand once again. He finished with the toilet and washed his hands, deciding at the last minute to splash some cold water on his face to further 'collect himself'.

So it was only then, with his hands and face dripping wet, that he saw it. Looking up into the mirror, he saw a face that was most definitely not his own. A little more oval, brown eyes that definitely were *not* his own, a little younger, a little more, well, crazy...

But there was no doubt in Ryan's mind that the face of Jerry Tyson was staring back at him. Ryan stared at the reflection in disbelief, his pulse racing in horror as he watched Tyson's hand touch its dripping wet face at the same time he was touching his own...

And in a flash, it was over. Tyson's face was gone, replaced with his own pale, wet, shaking, shocked image. He reached up a hand to touch his face again, gasping when the reflection matched his activity...but almost relieved when the pinching of the cheek he saw in the reflection did, indeed, cause *him* pain.

The shrill ring of his cell startled Ryan out of his odd musings. Not wanting to wake his wife, he stumbled back to his side of the bed and quickly picked up his phone from the end table. At this time of night, it could only be about one thing. He whispered into the receiver, "Ryan."

"Detective Ryan? We have received a call about a body discovered at 413 West 29th street..."

* * *

Detective Javier Esposito studied his partner's expression with brotherly concern as he handed the man a large steaming black coffee. "Dude," he declared, "you look *awful*..." A concerned thought shot through him. "It's not Jenny and my niece-to-be, is it? Are they okay?"

Ryan shook his head. "No, man, everyone's fine. I just had a bad dream, that's all." He took a sip of his coffee, using the heat, bitterness and resulting jolt of caffeine to anchor himself in his current reality. "What do we have?"

Esposito started reading from his notes as they walked through the building. "Name's Madeline Strimp, age 27. FDNY got reports of a smoke condition in the building earlier tonight..."

Ryan's nostrils flared as he recognized the potent aroma. "So that's what that was..."

"Yep," agreed Esposito. "Apparently someone fell asleep making a beef stew. Anyway, when the ladder crew was going door-to-door to evacuate the building, Ms. Strimp's door was open. One of the firemen found her..."

Ryan lost track of his partner's voice as a wave of déjà vu swept over him. "This is the vic's apartment, right?" he asked his partner.

"Yeah..." Esposito replied, confused as to his partner's train of thought.

Ryan's pulse started to quicken as he entered the small studio apartment...a feeling which only confused him further. _Why is this bugging me so much?_ he wondered, _Especially when I haven't seen..._his pulse jumped another gear when he realized he hadn't seen the body yet. "Bro," Ryan asked, his voice starting to shake just slightly, "where did they find the body?"

"I...was just about to show you," Esposito responded warily, noticing his partner's increasingly nervous response. "The fire jockeys found her in the bathroom, submerged in her tub..."

As Ryan stood in the door to the bathroom, a wave of memories hit him with the force of a Mack truck. His pulse racing off the charts, Ryan turned and ran out of the room at full human speed, barreling through any poor technician that had the nerve to stand between the detective and his return to the cold, fresh air.

Esposito caught up to his partner as a wave of nausea hit the younger man full force. Ryan staggered out to the sidewalk, kneeling down and throwing up the coffee that he had been drinking moments earlier. Esposito watched his partner with a fiercely protective level of worry. This was his partner, his brother and a man who had seen a hell of a lot worse than a body in a bathtub. So why was he losing it *now*? "Bro..." he began quietly and cautiously, "what the hell is going on here? And don't tell me you're fine. We wouldn't be out here kneeling on the sidewalk next to your puke if you were just 'fine'."

Ryan took a couple of deep breaths to try and calm his queasy stomach and ragged nerves long enough to speak. "I told you earlier, I had a bad dream."

Esposito's eyes widened, unable to believe what he was hearing. "Let me see this dream," he suggested. When Ryan nodded his consent, Esposito reached into his partner's mind, pulling out the information he was looking for.

The results sent him reeling. "Jesus..." was all he could gasp out, not knowing if the word was a swear or a prayer, and figuring, under the circumstances, that it was probably both.

Ryan's first response was a wordless nod. "Now you see why I ran out of there..." Esposito nodded.

The two men jumped up when their boss and her boyfriend-'partner' turned the corner, entering the far edge of their crime scene. Esposito turned to his best friend, quietly barking out orders to the man. "Kev, you need to get out of here. Go get a drink, get cleaned up, hug your wife, whatever you need to do to calm the hell down. I'll talk to Beckett and Castle and get them to help us. You meet us at the precinct."

Ryan nodded wordlessly and started to head for home. His partner stopped him, though, with one final encouragement. "Bro, listen to me: I don't give a damn what your head is telling you right now. You did *not* kill that girl. The evidence in there will prove it."

"There's more to the story than the evidence," Ryan countered sadly. "You know that as well as I do."

"Yeah, well the evidence *can* prove you aren't a part of the story," Esposito insisted. "Either way, you're no help to any investigation in the state you're in right now. Go!"

Ryan took off without another word just as Beckett and Castle made it over to them. While both of the Guardians were confused by their friend's behavior, Castle was the first to find the words to ask about it. "What's up with Ryan? Is he okay?"

"Short version?" Esposito replied, turning to Beckett. "We got a body in there. My partner thinks he killed her. And I need you to prove beyond any shadow of a doubt that he didn't."


	2. Chapter 2

Ryan was still shaken as he quietly opened the door to his apartment. It was just a dream, wasn't it? Esposito was the one who had weird psychic dreams, not him. But the detail...the fact that he just *knew* where the body was and the state it was going to be in before ever seeing it. And the way he felt as he was dreaming...it made him queasy to even *remember* that part.

He had loved it.

He had loved every single minute of it.

And that fact alone terrified him more than anything else.

_What the hell is happening to me? _

"Honey?" A gentle voice called out to him in the darkness of the apartment. "What are you doing here?"

Ryan's entire demeanor softened when he heard the voice of his wife. She was his anchor; the one person who could ground him in reality when his world spun off in the twilight zone. Still, it was only 5 in the morning..."Hi Jen," Ryan greeted his wife shyly, "what are you doing up?"

"Your daughter decided now was a good time for her karate class," Jenny replied with a grunt, "and since there's no arguing with her at this point..." Ryan shook his head even as he smiled; apparently their unborn child was already *his* daughter when she was at odds with her mother. Jenny, though, still wanted an answer to her question. "What are you doing here? When I woke up I figured you got a call..."

"I did," Ryan admitted. "I, uh...I got sick at the crime scene..." Jenny raised a skeptical eyebrow at her husband's statement.

"Really? You don't get sick at crime scenes..." When her husband refused to look her in the eye, Jenny pushed further. "Hey...we made a deal, remember? I can't read your mind, so you promised to be completely honest with me."

"Yeah, I did." Ryan drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly to steady his nerves. He then described the dream and what happened at the crime scene.

Jenny sipped her herbal tea, listening patiently to her husband's story...as hard to swallow as it was. "Wow," she exclaimed, "do you really think you might have killed that woman?"

"I don't know," Ryan shrugged. "I honestly don't know. As far as I can tell, I was asleep when the murder took place. But that dream...every detail about it was correct. Every one! How do you explain that?"

"How do you explain half the stuff you guys can do?" countered Jenny. She set down her drink and leaned forward to take her husband's hands in her own. "Look, I have no idea what that dream means. But I know *you*. And the man I love - the man I married - could not *possibly* have done this." Jenny cupped Ryan's face in her hands, pulling him in to meet him with a gentle kiss. "Go to work. Figure out who did this. When you know who killed her, you'll probably understand why this happened."

Ryan's face broke into a sad, small smile. He decided to put faith in his wife's faith in him...even when he was having trouble believing in himself. "Thank you," he told her quietly, indulging in just one more quick kiss.

"You're welcome," Jenny responded with a trusting smile as her husband pulled away. When she took a deep breath with her husband sitting so close to her, though, Jenny quickly realized she needed to tell her man one more thing. "Uh, honey..."

"Yeah?" asked Ryan.

"Take a shower before you go back to the precinct. You *reek*."

* * *

Detective Kate Beckett forced herself to put the odd encounter with her two fellow detectives out of her mind. It was clear that there was a story beyond the evidence she was going to find at the crime scene; of that much she was sure. But it was also essential that she listen to the story that the evidence was trying to tell her, because then, and only then, somewhere between the two stories, would she be able to find the truth.

Beckett turned to Esposito with an 'all business' stance, determined to get the other detective to focus on the crime scene instead of whatever was going on with his partner. "What do we have, Esposito?"

"Our vic's name is Madeline Strimp, age 27. After there was a small fire called in in another apartment on this floor, the firefighters broke in when the next door neighbor insisted that our vic was home. They found her in the bathtub, submerged under the water."

Beckett wanted to get in to look at the body, but the small, cramped space in the bathroom didn't allow for more than two people by the tub at any one time. Which meant she needed to get permission for a certain medical examiner to temporarily give up his assistant. "Any chance I can join you in there sometime soon, Perlmutter?" she asked the man kneeling beside the bathtub.

"Give me about a minute or so, detective," the medical examiner replied, "and your pet writer is *not* allowed to come in with you."

Beckett moved to console her partner's anticipated disappointment, only to find him unmoved by Perlmutter's gruff demands. _It's all right,_ Castle told her through their mind-link, _I have other ways of examining the evidence... _

The detective gave a quick, small smile in response as she squeezed her boyfriend's shoulder. _Yeah, well, don't think too loudly, okay?_ she teased. _I have to be able to concentrate. _

_I will do my very best to restrain my Jedi abilities,_ Castle teased with mock solemnity.

A loud throat-clearing cough snapped both Castle and Beckett out of their telepathic conversation. Beckett looked into the bathroom to find Perlmutter waiting for her with only the barest showing of patience...and his assistant long gone. "If you two don't mind," Perlmutter complained, "I have a body bloating here while the two of you make goo-goo eyes at each other. Can we get on with it?"

Beckett snapped on a pair of evidence collection gloves as she entered the room. "What do you have for me, doctor?"

"On first glance," Perlmutter began, "it might be easy to pass this off as a suicide."

"Get in the bathtub, slit your wrists and fall asleep from the blood loss until you either bleed out or drown," added Beckett, completing the doctor's hypothetical story. "But that's not the case here, is it?"

Perlmutter shook his head. "For one thing, it's kind of hard to make this kind of a cut when you're doing it to yourself," he said, pointing to the long knife cut across the woman's neck. As he moved down to the victim's wrists, Perlmutter continued, "and she would have had to have had one hell of a grudge against cops to have left this as her final message."

Beckett's eyes widened just slightly as she examined the NY and PD cut into the victim's wrists. "It's a fair bet these knife wounds were made post-mortem," she thought out loud, "since they're too detailed to be self-inflicted. But then how did she die if not from the blood loss?" It was then that Beckett noticed a tiny bend in the victim's nose, one that looked odd in comparison to the rest of her face. "May I?" she asked, motioning her intention to cross in front of Perlmutter in the small space.

"Let's switch," announced Perlmutter, volunteering to change places with the detective.

One the two people settled into their new locations next to the body, Beckett felt around the victim's mouth and nose. Only a few seconds passed before the detective made the connection between what she was feeling and what it meant to the investigation. "She was suffocated...and I think the guy did it by hand."

"How can you tell?" asked Perlmutter.

"The skin around her nose and mouth is...squishier than the rest of her face," Beckett replied quietly. "I'm pretty sure bruises are inevitable. Plus, the tip of her nose is just a hair off, like it's been fractured."

Perlmutter shook his head in amazement, knowing that he would have labeled anyone else as Castle-level crazy if they tried to pass off an explanation like that. But with detective Beckett...he was tempted to wish he had had his recorder with him, his mind furiously trying to memorize everything the woman had just told him. "Next you'll tell me you've figured out her time of death..."

"Can't help you there, doc," said Beckett, tilting her head to the side just slightly, "but I'm pretty sure she's been in this water at least four hours."

When Perlmutter raised a curious eyebrow at her offhand comment, Beckett quietly explained, "Underneath all the blood, it smells a little like when Castle's left a dish soaking in the sink too long. Standing water bacteria."

Perlmutter chuckled, his expression registering his ever-growing amazement for the unusual team that he was slowly starting to consider his friends. "You still need me to verify all of this information though, right, detective?"

"Always," replied Beckett with a smile of her own as Perlmutter stepped aside to let her out of the bathroom. Beckett navigated the maze of techs surrounding the bathroom area until she met up with Castle and Esposito in the small living area. "Ms. Strimp was definitely murdered," she announced to the group. "So the question now is, who did it and how?"

"And why," added Esposito. "According to the next door neighbor, our vic was the quiet, shy, lonely bookworm type. What free time she had off work she volunteered delivering hot meals and reading books to the elderly."

"Any luck with Forensics?" asked Castle.

"Negative," Esposito replied, shaking his head. "Can't tell if our perp forced his way in because the firemen had to force the door open. Other than that the place has been wiped clean."

Castle was already starting to build the story in his mind. "He overpowered his victim, which means he's pretty physically strong...meticulous about the details...a strangulation-type kill...she's blond...and he *clearly* has a thing about cops. Does this sound like anyone we know?"

Beckett rolled her eyes, annoyed that she was going to have to pull *that* particular argument out of mothballs. "Castle, how many times did you *insist* every organized crime scene you saw was one of his? Ten? Twenty?"

"Ruth Bender *did* fit his profile," insisted Castle quietly.

"Castle, it *can't* be him. You shot him. Heck, *I* shot him. Even if he survived that..."

Esposito stopped his fellow Guardians from re-starting the old argument. "Uh, guys...there's a few things you need to know about why Ryan ran off..."

* * *

**Comments *strongly* encouraged. C'mon guys, I want to hear what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3

Ryan was feeling moderately better as he walked into the precinct. He kept mentally replaying the reassuring words of his wife over and over again, gaining more strength every time he thought of them. He got off the elevator to the homicide bullpen determined to meet up with his partner and the rest of his team. Someone killed Madeline Strimp, and dreams be damned, Ryan was growing increasingly sure that it was *not* him.

His teammates were clustered around the murder board, writing down what little information they had on the young woman's life. "Okay," Beckett announced to the group, "we can't tell if our killer forced the door open, so until we find some evidence otherwise, we should probably work off the assumption that Madeline knew her attacker." When three heads nodded in agreement, Beckett turned around to address her team. "Where are we on next of kin?"

"Older sister lives in Flushing," replied Esposito, "she'll be coming in later this morning."

"Good," said Beckett, turning her attention back to the murderboard, "maybe she'll be able to shed a little more light on the life of our shy little bookworm." She marked down the preliminary time of death window on their timeline, taking note of the lateness of the hours they were looking at. "We especially need to know if she was dating someone."

Castle raised an eyebrow at Beckett's suggestion. "You think she had a boyfriend?"

"At that hour a break-in would have attracted some level of attention," replied Beckett. "And that place was not laid out in a way that gave any suggestion that she had a roommate."

"Do we have any idea where she worked?" asked Ryan, still trying to get up to speed.

Esposito shook his head. "We didn't find any pay stubs lying around."

"Ryan, run her financials. She had to be paying the bills somehow," Beckett ordered. Ryan nodded, grateful to have something relatively normal to focus his attention on.

Castle asked Esposito, "I don't suppose we got lucky and the building had security cameras?"

"That place? No way," replied Esposito. "Although a bodega down the street had a camera pointed in the direction of the building's front door. Unis got the tape; maybe we'll get lucky that way."

"Yeah maybe," said Beckett, sounding doubtful. "Still, Castle and I will take a crack at the tape, see if anything comes of it."

Assignments distributed, Ryan and Esposito got up to return to their desks when Beckett stopped the younger detective to talk. "How are you feeling, Ryan?"

Ryan tilted his head slightly, confused by his boss' social conversation 'starter' at the end of the meeting. "How am I feeling?"

Beckett simply nodded. "When I got food poisoning I barely left my bathroom for two days. And I definitely didn't show up at a crime scene. So if you want to take some time off..."

She was giving him an out. He projected through their mind-link, _you know it wasn't food poisoning, right?_

_I know, _replied Beckett, _but it's only a nightmare until we have evidence to the contrary, understand?_

Ryan nodded, comforted by the support he was feeling from his friend. _I got it._

* * *

Jacqueline Strimp was pulling herself together. Slowly.

Ryan and Esposito watched the petite brunette break down into sobs, dab the tears from her eyes, then try to open her mouth to speak and break down into sobs once again. Even with Ryan pouring as much comfort as he dared into the young woman's spirit, it took her several minutes after Esposito asked her the first question before she was able to answer it. "No, detective, my sister didn't have any enemies. She could even kick a drunk out of the bar and he'd leave with a smile on his face. Everyone loved her. She was just that kind of person."

"Your sister worked at a bar?" asked Ryan.

Jacqueline nodded. "They called it a VIP lounge, but it was still a bar. You just made more in tips at the end of the night."

"Do you know which...lounge it was, by any chance?" asked Ryan.

"The Red Dragon lounge in Chinatown."

That was not the answer either detective was expecting. "The Red Dragon?" Esposito asked, trying to confirm what he had heard.

"Yeah," Jacqueline agreed. "Maddie always said she got better tips because drunk Asian guys still remembered to look for the pretty little blond when they were leaving extra tips at the end of the night. She made more there in one night than I make in a week." That was another surprise to the detectives, and Jacqueline didn't miss the increase in attention. "I know, she didn't live like she was making that kind of money."

"So what was she doing with it?" asked Ryan.

A wistful smile crossed Jacqueline's face. "She had a soft spot for anybody who needed some help. If she had $500 bucks in her pocket, she'd probably have given away $400 of it by the time she got home."

Ryan and Esposito exchanged a look of even more heightened curiosity. "Were there certain people who were helped by your sister's generosity more often than others?" asked Esposito.

"Quite a few, actually."

"Can you make us a list?" asked Ryan.

Jacqueline nodded, and Esposito handed her a notepad and pen, continuing to ask questions as the young woman wrote. "Was your sister seeing anyone?"

Jacqueline shook her head...but then stopped herself. "She did say that she had a couple of dates with a guy recently. You have to understand, detectives; as much as my sister had a weakness for someone who needed her help, Maddie was *very* cautious when it came to guys. Getting to the third date was something of a big deal."

Ryan was practically bouncing in his seat with the anticipation that accompanied the first credible lead of a case. "Did she tell you about this guy?"

"Not a whole lot," Jacqueline replied, frowning. "His name was Barry, they met at the Red Dragon, and he treated her like a queen. That was the most I got out of her. It wasn't like her-she used to tell me everything..."

* * *

Castle looked around at the stark white walls bathed in red lights. "Feels like I'm in Amsterdam," he mused, thinking out loud.

Beckett found herself understanding the comparison, even if she didn't agree with it. "It definitely doesn't look like your typical club."

The reception area only increased the feeling of being in an environment that was far more elite and sophisticated than a typical nightclub. Twin gold dragons adorned a black lacquer desk that was the focal point of the room. Behind the desk, a tall, thin, half-Asian woman sat flipping through some information on an iPad while talking to someone in Chinese on an earpiece. Castle cast a quick translation spell to get past any possible language barriers before the receptionist spoke to them with a haughty, disapproving air. "Do you have a reservation?"

Beckett had little patience for the woman's attitude, and showed it as she presented her gold shield and identification. "I have a VIP pass. NYPD. Can I speak to one of your managers, please?"

The receptionist took the badge from Beckett's hand, treating it as if it were made of chocolate. "What is this in regard to?"

"We are investigating the death of one of your employees," replied Beckett.

"I...see," commented the receptionist. It was clear that she was disappointed that Beckett didn't back away from her simply on attitude alone. "Just a moment..." The woman tapped her earpiece. "Mr. Lee," she spoke in Chinese, assuming that Beckett wasn't able to understand her, "I have a woman in front of me who is claiming to be from the NYPD. She would like to meet with you, sir."

Beckett stretched her hearing to hear both sides of the conversation, grateful to find that Castle's translation had her back. _"Really?" _asked Mr. Lee whose voice Beckett was starting to find strangely familiar, _"Who is this woman?"_

"A...detective Kate Beckett," the woman replied to her boss.

_"Ah,"_ the boss exclaimed on the other end of the line. _"Tell Ms. Beckett that unless she is coming in here with a warrant and the judge who signed it, she is not welcome in this building. I'll have security meet you to escort her out."_

"Yes," said the receptionist, her smug smile returning. "Thank you, sir."

Beckett grabbed Castle and headed toward the door without saying another word to the receptionist. _Please tell me you were listening to that, _she projected through the mind-link.

_Every nauseating word, _replied Castle. _You did seem to recognize the mysterious Mr. Lee, though..._

Beckett nodded. _That was none other than Clifford Lee himself._

Castle's eyes widened as he remembered the name. _No wonder he was less than cooperative..._

Beckett could have sworn she could hear the gears turning in her boyfriend's head. Now outside of the club, the pair switched back to a verbal conversation. "Castle," she asked with a tone that spoke of warning, "what are you thinking?"

Castle had already pulled out his phone. "That receptionist not only didn't recognize me, I don't think she even noticed I was there."

Beckett had a feeling she knew where Castle was going with this. Still, she felt compelled to ask..."your point, Castle?"

Castle held up a finger to silence his partner as he talked to someone on the phone. "Gina? It's Rick. Listen, I was wondering if you could help me with something. I've heard about this super-exclusive lounge called the Red Dragon...oh, you've heard of it?...You *what*?!...Well, why didn't you ever take me?...Yes, yes, that's what I'm looking for...thanks, Gina."

Castle ended his call with Gina and quickly dialed the number Gina had just given him. "Yes, this is Richard Castle, Gina Cowell gave me your number..."

Beckett heard a furious level of tapping on the other end of the line. _"Yes, Mr. Castle, how may I be of assistance?"_

"I have...company I would like to entertain this evening. I was told you might be able to be of assistance?"

_"Absolutely, Mr. Castle. When should we be expecting you?"_

Castle pulled his phone away from his ear to check the time. "Can we come by in an hour?"

_"Not a problem, Mr. Castle. One of our private rooms will be waiting for you."_

"Thank you very much. I look forward to meeting you."

_"I look forward to meeting you as well, Mr. Castle. Good bye."_

Beckett was glaring at Castle as he ended his conversation. "And just what exactly are you planning to do with me for the next hour, Castle?"

Castle's smile was shamelessly unapologetic. "You, my dear detective, need a makeover."

* * *

**_I know I'm mostly writing this to entertain the crazy people rattling around in my brain, but if you're enjoying my inane rantings as well, I'd love to hear from you..._**


	4. Chapter 4

Ryan was starting to feel like his eyes were giving out on him. He leaned back, pushing his chair away from his desk as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. After a turbulent night's sleep and an early morning crime scene, the monotony of looking at security camera footage was probably not going to be the most effective use of his time...a situation made all the more difficult by the fact that there seemed to be nothing usable on the tape. The camera seemed to be positioned at the perfect angle so that anyone entering the building from the west could only be seen from the back and anyone entering the building from the east was usually block by someone coming from the west.

Coffee was starting to seem less like a good idea and more like a necessity for survival. Ryan shuffled into the break room and headed straight for the espresso machine, gathering his supplies and starting to pull together his double espresso latte without really thinking about it...

"Whoa..." Esposito stood at the door to the break room, clearly astonished by something he was seeing.

It was such an unusual emotion to see from his partner that Ryan looked around, wanting to see what Esposito was so impressed with. "What? What is it?"

"Bro..." Esposito replied nervously, "your milk, man...look..."

Ryan turned his head toward the fridge, his eyes following the path he would have normally taken to get his milk once he was done making his coffee. It was then that his expression started to match his partner's. The milk was suspended in mid-air, floating like it was being held up in a tank of water and being pulled along by a string. Ryan abandoned his coffee, entranced and confused by the sight in front of him.

Esposito, meanwhile, was closing and locking the doors to the break room and lowering the blinds, shutting off the room from the rest of the precinct as fast as he could. "Ryan," he finally choked out nervously, "are *you* doing that?"

"I...I don't know," Ryan finally stammered out. He pictured the milk moving toward him, gasping in disbelief when the carton floated effortlessly into his hand.

Esposito stared at the milk, then at his partner. "Bro, I know you haven't been holding out on me...when the hell did this start?"

"I...I wish I could tell you," Ryan replied with a nervous shrug. "I wasn't even trying to do wh-wh-what...what happened just now."

"So this is *new*?" asked Esposito.

Ryan nodded. "I'm so tired because of the way last night went down I was just making my coffee on autopilot."

Esposito found inspiration in his partner's comments. "So finish making your coffee."

The tone of Esposito's voice and the way he backed *away* from the espresso machine told Ryan everything he needed to know about exactly *how* his partner wanted him to make his coffee. Ryan racked his brain, trying to figure out how to consciously replicate something he had only really done without deliberate, conscious thought before then. A split-second flash of a memory hit him as he remembered how his aura became an extension of his body when he was in Stephanie's mind. Ryan closed his eyes, trying to focus his mind on that remembered sensation, and went to work.

The components of Ryan's coffee floated around the room in a weightless symphony, first being pressed and processed into a double espresso, then shaking out two packets of sugar and pouring in the milk and sugar while slowly stirring the beverage with a plastic spoon. Ryan finally released the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding once the garbage was tossed and the milk put back in the refrigerator.

Esposito stared at the finished drink in disbelief. "Wow..."

"Yeah," chuckled Ryan in nervous amazement.

Esposito was starting to piece together a theory. "After you beat the old witch, Stephanie woke up able to read minds because of the energy you two were throwing around inside her head. Think there's a chance that affected you, too?"

Ryan took a sip of his coffee. It was perfect. And he had barely touched it. "I can't think of any other explanation, can you?"

* * *

There were many times that being mind-linked to Rick Castle had come in handy for Kate Beckett. There had been many more times where being able to know what her boyfriend was thinking have even been a very...enjoyable experience.

This was not one of those times.

Beckett started counting in her head, just to have something to focus on other than Castle being swept away by the opportunity to change the appearance of the woman he loved...any way he wanted.

_Blond, definitely...blue eyes, no! Green eyes, definitely green...What about her body? Her body is definitely amazing, but maybe..._

_Castle!_ Beckett's exclamation cut through Castle's runaway thoughts and echoed loudly in the mind-link between them. _Castle, that's enough! I'm just going to ask Lanie to do a simple disguise so that anyone at the club who's seen me before won't recognize me. Got it?_

Castle pouted, but his eyes were sparkling with the enjoyment he got out of teasing his partner. _Yes, dear..._

Beckett rolled her eyes as she pushed through the door to the morgue. To her surprise, Lanie's face was the one greeting her on the other side. "Ah, good," Perlmutter greeted her, "I was just about to call you, detective. I have the results on your Ms. Strimp."

Beckett was somewhat surprised by the medical examiner's announcement. "That was fast."

Perlmutter, to Beckett's further surprise, actually smiled in response. "What can I say? It makes the job easier when I can get a jump start at the crime scene."

"So what do we have?" said Beckett.

"She was suffocated just until she lost consciousness. Madeline Strimp died from massive blood loss. Specifically, she died from this cut," explained Perlmutter, pointing to the ear-to-ear cut across the woman's neck.

"Any idea as to what made the cut?" asked Castle.

Perlmutter leveled his now-traditional glare at Castle before ignoring the writer and telling Beckett, "It's a 3.7 inch blade, straight-edged blade. Not terribly sharp, either. If I had to guess, I'd say your murder weapon was a Swiss Army knife."

"Which means he probably brought the murder weapon with him and took it with him when it left," mused Beckett.

Perlmutter nodded in agreement before continuing. "Unfortunately, the other reason I was able to finish the report so quickly is because there isn't a lot of forensic evidence on the body. Whoever did this was extremely careful. Anything that could be connected to your killer probably got washed down the drain."

"I'm sure you got what you could," Beckett reassured him, "thanks, Perlmutter. We actually came down because I need to see Lanie. Is she around?"

Perlmutter pointed behind the detective, and Beckett turned around to find her best friend standing behind her. "Hey girl," Lanie drawled, "since my good friend Sid here has taken care of your latest body, could this possibly be a social call?"

Beckett shook her head. "Different kind of business. I need a disguise."

Lanie raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You do realize that last time you asked me for a disguise I needed Ryan's help with it."

"But this time it doesn't need to be specific," Beckett countered, "I just need to be able to not be recognized at a VIP club tonight."

"VIP Club?" asked Lanie. "All right, I'm going to need details on this one, honey..." Beckett told her friend about the Red Dragon club and its connection to the Lees and the murder of Jane Herzfeld. "So all you need is to get past the receptionist at this ultra-swanky, ultra-private club that you're only going to be able to get into because you're going as Castle's arm candy?"

Beckett nodded. "That about covers it."

"In that case, I'll do it, on one condition."

"Name it," said Beckett.

Lanie grinned wickedly. "Take me with you. For once, I want to be the candy on Castle's other arm."

"Agreed," said Castle, smiling at the thought of having such entertaining arm candy...even if it was an on-duty undercover cop and her very *taken* best friend.

As he was working on a backlog of reports, Perlmutter listened to the conversation between the three Guardians with what Castle would have sworn was an uncharacteristic level of interest. Finally, the medical examiner's curiosity overcame his desire to focus on his job. "Hey Lanie," he called out from across the room, "can I ask what is probably a stupid question?"

"Shoot," Lanie called back to her friend.

"Why are these two asking *you* to provide a disguise?"

Lanie chuckled for a moment, having forgotten that Perlmutter hadn't been in the lab the last time she did this. "Want to come over and watch?" Perlmutter crossed over to join the trio of Guardians as Beckett hopped up onto the sterilized autopsy table. Lanie drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly to steady her nerves, and entered into the trance. She changed her friend's eyes first, changing the color from their normal hazel to the same startlingly pale Swedish light blue that she used last time. This time, though, Lanie then worked on her friend's hair, first turning it pure white, then adding in more and more of a mix of yellow and brown until a perfect platinum blond emerged. Next was the shape of her friend's eyes, eyebrows and chin...a little wider set, a little more narrow...

Finally, Lanie came out of the trance and both women opened their eyes. Perlmutter shook his head in amazement as he studied the differences between the woman he had known for years as detective Kate Beckett and the blond standing in front of him. "I can definitely see why they called you, Lanie," he exclaimed. "Detective Beckett, there's no way that anyone who didn't see this process would recognize you tonight."

Castle, for his part, was definitely enjoying the view. While he believed with all his heart that Kate Beckett was the most beautiful woman in the world, both inside and out, he had always had a thing for leggy blonds. So to have Kate Beckett, leggy blond, even if it was only for one night...Castle extended his arms in front of him, allowing Lanie and Beckett to link up to him arm-in-arm on each side. "Ladies, shall we go?"

* * *

**_Ah, nothing like Top Gear and crazy fan fiction to be an entertaining distraction. If you're enjoying the distraction, send comments!_**


	5. Chapter 5

Lanie smiled appreciatively as she looked at her reflection in the window. "I always knew you had great taste in clothes, Castle, but tonight you have *truly* outdone yourself."

Beckett, dressed to the nines in the first red dress that Castle had ever given her, enjoyed seeing her best friend grinning from ear-to-ear in a stunning blue gown. "This whole arm candy thing kind of suits you, Lanie."

"Just don't tell my fiancé," Lanie warned. "He doesn't make enough for me to become accustomed to this lifestyle..."

_Your fiancé already *knows*, _Esposito teased through Lanie's mind-link, _and you can be arm candy for Castle all you want as long as you save the *real* treats for me..._

Lanie purred through their mind-link as she read Esposito's thoughts about what he really thought of the dress...and what he was hoping to do with that dress in a heap on his bedroom floor. _I think you can count on it, baby..._

Castle cleared his throat to gently attract Lanie's attention. "Ladies," he asked them, "shall we go in?"

Beckett and Lanie took their previously agreed-upon positions on either side of the famous writer, hanging on his arms and his every word. The group entered the club to find the same snobbish receptionist behind the desk. Castle took the lead, turning on the charm. "Good evening," he announced, "I'm Rick Castle."

"Yes, Mr. Castle, welcome to the Red Dragon," the receptionist purred, looking Castle up and down appreciatively. She stepped out from behind the desk to show that her dress was of a similar couture quality to the dresses that Beckett and Lanie were wearing. "If you'll please follow me, your private room is waiting."

The receptionist led the trio down the hall and opened a nondescript door, waiting at the entrance for the group to walk through ahead of her. The two women went in first, then Castle handed a $100 bill to the receptionist, who tucked the cash discretely into her dress before telling Castle, "your hostess will be with you shortly."

"Thank you," said Castle, appreciating the view as the receptionist turned around and walked back to her desk.

_Castle_? Beckett got her boyfriend's attention through their mind-link, shaking him away from the...attention he was giving the receptionist. _You coming in?_

Castle turned his attention back to the two beautiful women he was escorting for the evening. _Sorry, yeah_...he entered the room and closed the door to give them enough privacy to talk. The room was ornately furnished to look like an Arabian harem. Beckett ran her fingers over the silk and brocade pillows, using her heightened sense of touch to determine the quality of the fabrics. "These fabrics must cost a small fortune," she mused, "the thread count's in the thousands, easy."

Lanie was the first to notice the iPad sitting on the low-profile coffee table. "I'll bet they use this as their menu," she commented, tapping the button to wake up the device. "Yep, menu it is..." her eyes widened as she recognized several of the items. "Guys, this is one of those ultra high-end bottle service places. A couple of bottles of wine and you're racking up a bill that's more than I make in a week..."

"If a hostess takes care of even two clients a night," Castle commented, "then Madeline would have been making a small fortune in tips, just like her sister said in her interview. And that's even if all she did was serve drinks..."

"There were no indications of recent sexual activity in Strimp's autopsy, Castle," countered Lanie.

Beckett extended her hearing past the soundproof padding in the walls to eavesdrop on other nearby clients. "I'm not hearing anyone having sex in the other rooms, either."

A gentle knock at the door temporarily ended their conversation. "Enter," Castle called out to whoever was behind the door.

The young woman who entered the room was uniquely dressed. From the waist up, the dress was a simple black tank top; the skirt, though, resembled the wrappings of a kimono, and the woman who entered moved with the same delicate, shuffled steps a woman would have taken in similar garb. "Welcome to the Red Dragon," she greeted them as she knelt beside the table, "My name is Julianne, I am here to ensure you enjoy your evening. How may I serve you?"

"We'll take a bottle of 1900 St. Miriam," Castle ordered.

"And some information," Beckett added, sliding her gold shield across the table.

The woman tucked a stray black hair behind her ear as she picked up the shield to examine it closely. Her next statement was barely above a whisper. "You're NYPD?"

Beckett nodded. "Do you know a hostess by the name of Madeline Strimp?" The skip of Julianne's heartbeat told the detective the answer to her question before the woman ever said anything. She started to look around the room nervously, as if she waiting for someone to storm in and drag her away. It would have been impossible for the trio of Guardians not to notice.

_Think our friend Mr. Lee might be recording his ultra-rich clientele_? Castle asked into the mind-link with his partner.

_Let me check_, replied Beckett, using her hearing to search the room. It took her only a few seconds to find what she was looking for. She then shared her sight and what she was seeing through the mind-link. _Castle, camera at four o'clock._

_Already on it,_ Castle countered. He shielded the women's purses and the iPad 'menu' before sending out a gentle energy pulse to fry any other electronics in the room. "We are no longer being recorded," Castle announced. "And they won't be able to fix it for the rest of the night."

Julianne stared at the group in disbelief. "You're sure?"

Beckett smiled as she heard someone two rooms behind her cursing loudly in Chinese after getting zapped by a live wire, presumably of Castle's doing. "Absolutely. We should be able to speak freely in here...unless someone's going to notice if you stay in here too long?"

The hostess raised a skeptical eyebrow before her mind filled in the details. "I'm sorry, I had forgotten you haven't been here before. Mr. Lee has modeled the Red Dragon after traditional Japanese tea house. I am your hostess. Once I put in your liquor order, I am yours for the evening."

"You should probably get our drinks, then," suggested Castle.

Julianne took the iPad as she nodded, bowing deeply until her head almost touched the coffee table. "Yes, Mr. Castle. I will be back in a few minutes."

Castle and Beckett started crafting theories as soon as Julianne closed the door behind her. Beckett went first. "I heard a security camera and at least three hidden microphones before you fried them."

"If the hostess job is modeled on geishas, then these women have access to a lot of very powerful men..."

"And one of the western stereotypes about geishas is that they sleep with their clients..."

"So perhaps our Barry followed Madeline home one night, expecting a little extra service for all the money he'd been shelling out..."

"And when she told him no, he suffocated her, then tried to cover it up by making it look like she slit her wrists..."

Lanie couldn't stand to listen anymore without correcting her friends. "By carving an NY and PD in her wrists? Sounds kind of doubtful to me..." Beckett and Castle turned to each other to try and refute Lanie's statement - and quickly failed. Both Guardians leaned back against the pillows in defeat, which Lanie found almost instantly endearing. "I'm sure you'll get more information when Julianne comes back," she assured them, smiling. "I haven't gotten to see you guys do that in a long time. It was cute."

"Glad we were able to entertain you," Castle smirked.

Lanie smile grew in response to Castle's obvious annoyance. All potential conversations ceased, though, as Julianne returned, kneeling down to set the drinks on the table. "Your 1900 St. Miriam," she announced to the group, opening the bottle and pouring the scotch into three glasses. "With the bottle open, I am yours for the evening. What would you like to know?"

Castle and Lanie both took glasses from the table, sipping their drinks slowly while Beckett asked the questions. "You knew Madeline, Julianne?"

Julianne nodded. "Mr. Lee hires his hostesses as private contractors, not as employees. As a consequence of that, we tend to look out for each other. Madeline was a big reason for that."

"She was?" asked Castle.

"Yes," agreed Julianne, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. "She was always looking out for us, making us laugh on long nights, taking shifts if we needed time off, helping us with anything she could. And because she looked out for us, we started looking out for each other."

"Sounded like the kind of person who didn't make a lot of enemies," Lanie commented.

Julianne's face paled at the mention of the idea of Madeline having enemies. "Oh, God, Barry..."

Castle and Beckett leaned forward immediately, their attention piqued by the link between the two witnesses. "Madeline's boyfriend?" asked Beckett.

Julianne's eyes widened even further. "They were *dating*?! My God, Maddie, what the hell were you thinking..." When the three other people in the room looked to her in confusion, Julianne explained, "Mr. Lee has explicitly forbidden hostesses from dating clients to keep us from looking like call girls. It's written into our contracts, and it's grounds for automatic termination."

"Have any of the other hostesses been fired, Julianne?" asked Castle.

Julianne shook her head. "Not since I've been here. Oh God..." The hostess' face paled as she considered a terrible possibility. "You don't think that Mr. Lee found out about Maddie and Barry, do you?"

"We need to consider every possibility," Beckett replied diplomatically. "Do you know how we might be able to get in touch with Barry?"

Julianne nodded.

* * *

He hadn't been planning on killing anyone tonight. Watching the cops scatter like cockroaches chasing around all sorts of dead ends...that was just plain *fun*. The master plan had been to go home, order a pizza and scour the newspapers for coverage of his exploits.

That, of course, was before *she* came back into the picture.

That *bitch*.

She had changed her name, of course. Hair color, too. As if becoming a brunette was going to make any difference. Deep down, he knew she was the same blond bimbo she had dated all those many years ago. The same blond bimbo who should have *died* all those many years ago.

He thought she *had* died.

So to find her alive and well and living in Soho...well didn't that just piss him off to no end? This wasn't murder anymore, this...this was correcting a flaw in the universe.

He followed her as she carried a bunch of large packages down the busy street. She was his only focus; anyone who got in his way was simply an obstacle to be pushed out of his way.

Please. They were lucky to be walking away from him alive.

He watched her juggle the packages in one hand and her keys in the other. If he moved at just the right time, kept a low enough profile...it would almost be too easy. As if the universe knew he was trying to right a terrible wrong and it was helping his process along.

And hey, if the universe was opening an opportunity up to him, who was he to say no?

The door closed slowly as she walked up the stairs, giving him the chance to stick a hand in the gap and keep the door ajar. The darkness was his friend; not a security camera or eyewitness in sight. Hell, even the street lamp was broken. His best friend the darkness was truly looking out for him tonight.

She entered the apartment right at the top of the first flight of stairs. He slipped into the tiny hallway and silently sprinted up the staircase, catching the door just before it would have closed on him. Perfect.

He slipped past the door, gently pushing it closed as she put the packages on the sofa and turned around to face him, frozen with fear. "You," was all she could gasp out.

He lifted his hands in an open-armed, smiling gesture of greeting. "It's me."

"You...you're supposed to be *dead*," she stammered out in a terrified whisper.

"And so are *you*," he declared quietly, crossing over to get face-to-face with her. "But that's something I plan to correct."

He wrapped his gloved hands around her neck and squeezed, watching with a smug sense of satisfaction as her eyes widened and her face turned red, then purple, then blue. She made a weak attempt at pushing his hands away even as the last of her life left her body. To watch her face as she died...finally...that *alone* was worth working on his 'night off'.

Heck, he might do it again tomorrow night. Now, how to leave the message...

* * *

Ryan woke up with a start, jumping so high he hit his knees on the top of the inside of his desk. Wincing from the pain, he got up from his chair to walk off his discomfort in the empty bullpen. _Damn it,_ he cursed to himself, _I must have fallen asleep at my desk. Gotta call Jenny, she must be worried sick..._

It only took a few steps, though, before Ryan's weakened, aching legs couldn't propel him further. And it was in the reflection of his captain's darkened office that he saw it. The only thing that could shake him with terror to the depths of his very soul.

The face of Jerry Tyson.


	6. Chapter 6

_Oh God_, thought Ryan, _not again._ He ran for the locker room to splash some cold water on his face and try to pull himself together. It was a relief to look in the mirror and see his own face staring back at him. He checked his watch. _5am. I've been here all night..._

Ryan started pacing the room nervously, racking his brain to try and remember every detail of his nightmare. _Soho...second floor of a walk-up building...first door on the right..._

"Kevin?"

Ryan looked up and turned toward the entrance to the locker room to find his partner watching him worriedly. "Javi? You're here early..."

"Your wife called," replied Esposito, "she's been up all night worried about you." Esposito took in the worried, panicked behavior of his partner. "Bro, have you been here *all night*?!"

"I fell asleep at my desk..." Ryan admitted wearily.

Esposito examined his friend's appearance closely. While his partner looked as stiff, rumpled and disheveled as you would expect from someone who was asleep at his desk all night, he also looked...terrible. As if he hadn't slept at *all*. And the look of absolute pain and fear in Ryan's eyes made something else horribly clear. "You had another nightmare last night, didn't you?"

Ryan nodded. "Can you...?"

Esposito went into Ryan's mind and copied the nightmare, memorizing every detail as he captured it. He then switched gears looked at Ryan's active memories of when he first woke up. "Has anyone called this in yet?"

Ryan shrugged. "No idea. Little self-obsessed this morning..."

"All right, I got a uni who owes me a favor, I should be able to talk him and his partner into taking a swing by the place."

Ryan scanned the area, his mind now distracted by the idea that someone might enter the room and overhear their conversation. "Thanks, man."

"No problem...but I need you to do somethin' for me."

"Name it."

"Call your wife, then go see Lanie. If this is happening to you because of some crazy brain tumor or something then the sooner she catches it, the better."

* * *

Sidney Perlmutter was rarely not the first person in the morgue. And that was the way he liked it. As much as he enjoyed the company of his friend and co-worker Lanie Parish, well...there was a reason he chose a career where he worked with the dead.

So as much as he wanted to get into the office early and enjoy his normal peace and quiet, it was not to be. Perlmutter pushed open the door to the morgue to find his fellow medical examiner already hard at work. "Morning, Lanie," he called out in greeting, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. "What brings you in so early?"

"Javi had to leave early to help a friend of ours with some stuff," Lanie replied. "I couldn't get back to sleep after he left, so I figured I'd get an early start..."

"I know the feeling."

Perlmutter turned around to find detective Ryan shuffle in quietly behind him. "Detective Ryan...you look *terrible*."

Ryan let out a small chuckle. "I can always count on you for blunt honesty, Perlmutter."

"He's not wrong," Lanie chimed in, clearly worried. "You look like you haven't slept in a week."

Ryan started nervously looking around the room, suddenly finding the floor fascinating. "I've been sleeping," he admitted quietly, "I just haven't been sleeping *well*..."

"Javi told me about that nightmare you had the other night," Lanie confessed.

Perlmutter quietly took a phone call as Ryan told Lanie, "I...had another one last night. I was...I was strangling a woman I felt like I had known years ago. I then held one of her wrists over the sink as I carved a 4 into it. And I woke up."

"Where did you kill her?" asked Perlmutter, his voice surprisingly shaky.

"In her apartment," Ryan replied, "Ridge street..."

"Just off of Stanton," Perlmutter and Ryan spoke in unison. "I just got the call," Perlmutter announced. "Two uniforms found a body in a second floor apartment. 125 Ridge Street."

Lanie eyed her friend with concern. If this were her fiancé, she wouldn't be thinking twice, but for *Ryan* to be seeing things like this..."Sid, go take the call," Lanie told her fellow medical examiner, "I'm gonna see if I can figure out what's goin' on here."

Perlmutter nodded, taking his bag and leaving for the crime scene without another word. Lanie motioned for Ryan to enter the room. The detective walked quietly into the room and sat atop the empty autopsy table. Lanie took one of Ryan's hands into her own, entering her healing trance and heading directly for her friend's brain. Ryan felt a rush of warmth and energy fill his entire being as Lanie worked to repair and regenerate his worn-out cells. He was smiling for the first time in two days when Lanie opened her eyes. "So, doc," Ryan asked, his nerves finally betraying his smile, "what's the verdict?"

Lanie was most definitely *not* in a smiling mood. "I wish I could tell you it was something as simple as a brain tumor, Kev. But aside from the issues brought about by your obvious fatigue, I couldn't find anything wrong with you."

The doctor's declaration wiped the smile off of Ryan's face. "Nothing at all?" Lanie shook her head. "Then what the hell's going on here?"

"When Javi gets dreams like this," said Lanie, "there's always a reason for it. Usually it's some sort of warning or clue to something that's going to happen in the future."

Ryan nodded. He had seen enough of his partner's prophetic dreams to know that such signs were not easily ignored. "But these dreams seem to be happening in real-time, Lanie. What good does that do us? Any why do I keep seeing Jerry Tyson's face in the mirror when I first wake up?"

"I wish I could give you an easy answer, Kevin, but I can't. Javi once told me that the answer usually lies somewhere in the dreams themselves."

Kevin carefully considered Lanie's comment before responding. "Maybe if Javi and I go back over the crime scenes, I can figure out if there's some difference between my nightmares and what really happened..."

Lanie finally allowed herself a small smile. "Sounds like as good a start as any..."

* * *

Esposito relaxed the minute he opened the door and saw Beckett, Castle and Perlmutter working the crime scene. Beckett, on the other hand, had the opposite reaction, crossing the room to quietly ask her fellow Guardian, "Esposito? What are you doing here? You guys weren't assigned to this..."

"What led to the discovery of the body?" asked Esposito, cutting off his boss.

Beckett answered automatically before she caught the connection between the question and her answer. "An anonymous...wait a second..." She leaned in to make sure that her question could only be heard between the two of them. "Ryan?"

Esposito nodded. "I sent him to Lanie to go get checked out. I'm surprised Perlmutter didn't tell you..."

"That's because whatever he was doing there was none of my business," chimed in Perlmutter.

Ignoring the ME's comment, Beckett filled in her fellow Guardian. "Our Vic's name is Catherine Smith. She's lived in this apartment for six months, according to the landlord. A couple of pay stubs around the apartment indicate she's been working as an administrative temp. Door shows no sign of forced entry."

"It wouldn't," Esposito muttered under his breath, just barely loud enough for Beckett to notice. Shaking thoughts of his absent partner out of his mind, he asked, "Have you had your pow-wow with the good doc yet?"

"I was just about to," Beckett replied. "Care to join me?"

Esposito nudged his head off in the direction of Beckett's partner. "What about Mr. Wizard? He loves to be a part of this stuff."

"He's trying to figure out what the similarities are between our two victims."

Nodding his understanding, Esposito crossed the room to join Beckett around the victim's body. "So what do we got, doc?" asked Esposito.

"I'm tempted to ask you two to tell me," Perlmutter muttered under his breath, eliciting smiles from both detectives. Composing himself quickly, the medical examiner began, "There's no doubt on this one: cause of death, strangulation."

"Time of death?" asked Beckett.

"Based on liver temp, between 11pm last night and 1am this morning. And this little note," said Perlmutter, pointing to the victim's wrist, "was definitely made post-mortem."

Beckett closely examined the 4 carved into the woman's right wrist. "NYPD 4," she mused, "Wonder what he means by that..."

"He's sending a message," Esposito declared definitively. "But what, I don't know. Badge number, maybe?"

"Maybe," agreed Beckett. "But whose?"

Esposito shivered at his thought before speaking it. "No offense, but I hope we don't have to work four more murders to figure that out."

Beckett nodded her agreement, still deep in thought. "We still don't know how our guy chooses his victims; the two women obviously aren't co-workers. Castle!" she called out to her partner. "Any luck on figuring out a connection yet?"

Castle shook his head. "Sorry, I got nothin'."

"You won't find a connection," a voice declared definitively behind them.

Beckett and Esposito stood up from their positions next to the body and crossed the room to meet Ryan at the front door. "Everything ok, bro?" asked Esposito.

Ryan nodded. "Clean bill of health from Lanie, unfortunately."

"So no answers there?" asked Esposito.

Castle joined the group as Ryan shook his head. "And unfortunately, now that I'm here, I'm afraid we're only going to find two connections between these two crime scenes: the way these women died...and me."

"Your nightmares?" asked Castle.

Ryan nodded. "Javi, correct me if I'm wrong on this, but these nightmares always feel like I'm the killer: I'm seeing through their eyes, feeling what they're feeling, and thinking what they're thinking."

"Yeah," Esposito agreed. "That's exactly it."

"That's why you were so afraid that you had killed Maddie Strimp?" asked Beckett.

Ryan nodded again. "But when I woke up this morning, I knew I had to have been at my desk all night. A couple of the night janitors even verified it for me. Then it hit me."

"What?" asked Beckett.

"When I wake up after one of these nightmares, when I go to look in the mirror, I don't see me. I see Jerry Tyson. So either I'm channeling Tyson and killing these women,"

"Which you're *not*," Esposito assured him.

"Or I'm in Tyson's head when he's killing them. And I think I have a way to prove it."

This was information Esposito was particularly anxious to hear. "How?"

"One thing stood out to me when I thought over the nightmare from last night. The first one was closer to Tyson's usual stalk-and-kill MO. But this time, he *knew* her. And hated her with a passion. The type of passion most men usually reserve for their exes."

Castle understood Ryan's theory immediately. "You think...?"

"I'm almost completely certain we'll find out that seven months ago, Catherine Smith didn't exist. And that would be because prior to six months ago, Catherine Smith's real name was Donna Gallagher."

* * *

**_Don't forget to leave a comment! I always love to hear from you!_**


	7. Chapter 7

Ryan typed furiously on his keyboard, looking for every bit of information he could find on Catherine Smith. Her identity had to be fake. She *had* to be Donna Gallagher. He had to be seeing these murders through Jerry Tyson's eyes.

Because the alternative...the alternative was simply unthinkable.

Esposito turned around to check on his partner's progress. "Any luck, bro?"

"No," Ryan declared, his frustration clearly evident. "The worst thing about trying to make sure something isn't there is that you have to look through every possible place it *could* be. I'm almost certain Catherine Smith's identity is fake, but..."

"But with a last name of Smith, there's a lot of possible Catherines to wade through." When Ryan nodded, Esposito finally allowed himself to break into a smile. "Well would you like to see what *is* there?" When he knew he had his partner's attention, Esposito called up a photo on his computer screen. "Look like anyone we know?"

Ryan noticed the resemblance immediately. "Catherine Smith?"

Esposito shook his head even as his smile widened. "Not *exactly*. That is the last known driver's license photo of one Donna Gallagher."

Ryan was finally able to share his partner's smile. "Well this saves us that awkward call to Witsec..."

"You found it?" asked Castle, looking over the shoulders of the two men.

"Hell yeah," replied Esposito. He called out to his boss at the other end of the bullpen as he sent the photo off to print. "Yo, Beckett!"

Beckett looked over from her connected murderboards when Esposito's call grabbed her attention. "Whad'ya got for me?"

"Found a driver's license photo of Donna Gallagher," replied Esposito. "We're pretty sure it's a match."

"That's helpful," Beckett agreed, "but let's run it through facial recognition. Under the circumstances we need to be 110% sure."

Esposito nodded in agreement. "On it."

"Detective Beckett?" Captain Gates called out to her senior detective from the door to her office.

"Yes, sir?"

"My office."

Beckett obediently crossed the bullpen, entered her boss' office and closed the door. "Yes, sir?"

"Where are we on the Madeline Strimp murder?"

Beckett began briefing her boss as she sat down. "Strimp worked as a hostess at a high-end VIP lounge. We have two witness who have both confirmed that she had a boyfriend, Barry Richmond, who was a frequent client at the lounge."

"Do you think he could be involved?"

Beckett hesitated before answering. "It's our strongest lead right now. The lounge had a strict policy against their hostesses dating clients."

Gates caught the hesitation. "And?"

"And Clifford Lee owns the lounge."

Gates leaned forward in her chair at the mention of the familiar name. "Do you think Lee might have had her killed to teach a lesson to the other girls?"

Beckett nodded. "It's one of our working theories at the moment."

"What about the Soho murder? A...Catherine Smith?"

"That's...that's our other theory."

Gates sighed, slowly getting frustrated at how hard it was getting to pull information out of her senior detective this morning. "Detective, I need to know. Are these two cases connected?"

"We believe they are, sir," Beckett replied reluctantly.

"I was afraid of that," Gates leaned back in her chair and sighed again. "I've just gotten a call from the Feds. They're coming to take over the Madeline Strimp investigation."

Beckett's eyes widened in shock. "What?!"

"Apparently the cause of death matches the MO of a serial killer they've been tracking." Gates leaned forward again when she saw the reaction Beckett had at the idea that this was a serial case. "But it seems like you already knew that, detective."

Beckett nodded reluctantly. "We...we have reason to believe Jerry Tyson is back, sir."

It quickly became the captain's turn to be surprised. "The Triple Killer? I thought Jerry Tyson was dead."

"So did I, sir," Beckett agreed. "But we have some...evidence that is leading us to believe that he's tweaked his MO and come back to New York."

Gates noted the hesitation on the word 'evidence'. "What kind of evidence are we talking about here, detective?"

"The inadmissible kind, sir."

Gates nodded in understanding; inadmissible had become a shorthand between them for any evidence collected through the unique abilities of her team. "And do we have any way to corroborate this evidence as of yet?"

"Yes, sir. We believe Catherine Smith was living under a false identity."

"Who do you believe her to be?"

"Donna Gallagher, Tyson's ex. Facial recognition is being run as we speak."

Gates took a moment to process the newly acquired information in light of the approaching problem. "All right, we can't call off the Feds. If this is a multi-state case, then they have jurisdiction. But I don't want Tyson to slip through our fingers *again* because the Feds underestimate who they're dealing with. Will you and your team be able to work *with* the Feds on this?"

Beckett nodded. "Tyson has caused us all far too much grief over the years. I promise, we'll be on our best behavior."

The captain was well aware of what her team could do when they were on their 'best behavior'. "That's what I'm afraid of."

* * *

Esposito caught up to his boss as she was leaving Gates' office. "Facial recognition just got back. Positive match for Donna Gallagher."

Beckett looked at the facial recognition report as she considered what that meant to their investigation. "Which makes our prime suspect..."

"3XK," said Esposito.

"Again," sighed Beckett. She was getting tired of this psychopath being the case that simply refused to go away. She started rubbing the bridge of her nose to try and stop the oncoming headache. "You have no idea how badly I want to get this guy out of our lives..."

"Oh, I have an idea..." agreed Esposito, sharing his teammate's frustration.

"It's worse than you think," Beckett insisted, cutting her partner off. "The Feds want to take over this case."

Esposito's eyes widened in frustrated surprise. "What?! Why?"

"Apparently the MO to Madeline Strimp's murder matches a serial killer they've been tracking."

"So they don't know it's Tyson yet?"

Beckett shook her head. "Not from what Gates told me."

"That means that the only way they'll take this case over completely is if their case ties into both Madeline Strimp and Catherine Smith's murders?"

Beckett nodded. "We need to track down Barry Richmond before the Feds get here. If Strimp wasn't killed by Tyson we need to confirm that as quickly as possible so that they only take over cases that *their* man killed...if there are any."

* * *

Castle and Beckett walked down the well-lit, tastefully decorated hallway of Barry Richmond's apartment building. Beckett's mind, though, was most definitely not on her surroundings. It took a couple of tries for Castle to re-focus her attention to their present moment. "Beckett?"

"Oh...sorry, Castle," said Beckett half-absentmindedly. "I was distracted."

"Yeah, no kidding," said Castle. "Everything ok?"

Beckett shook her head, using the physical movement to focus her attention back to the present. That focus sent enough danger signals to her enhanced senses that she drew her weapon.

Castle cast a shield spell as soon as he noticed the change in his partner's level of alertness. "What is it?"

"Dead body," she whispered, "I can smell it."

"Which way?"

Beckett stretched her sense of smell, filtering until the corpse was the only thing she smelled. Her attention was pulled in the direction of Barry Richmond's apartment...which left a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. "I think it's coming from Barry Richmond's apartment." Castle was starting to experience the same sinking feeling. He followed his partner, flanking her as they reached the door to Richmond's apartment. "Mr. Richmond!" Beckett called out, "NYPD! We need to ask you some questions."

When Beckett listened for a reaction from inside the apartment and heard nothing, Castle cast a spell to unlock the door and disable the security system, pushing the door open with a gentle breeze. The detective then led her partner into the apartment, gun at the ready, letting her sense of smell draw her into the direction that she needed to go.

"Castle, you can relax," said Beckett as they reached the source of the smell. "Unfortunately, the only one in the area besides you and me...is him."

The wizard pulled back their shields as he looked down at the body of the man who they could only assume was Barry Richmond. "Do you think this was Tyson's doing?"

Beckett motioned for Castle to come around to see the clean bullet holes in the middle of Barry Richmond's chest and skull. "Not unless he's decided to pull a mafia-style execution for some reason. Our friend here was double-tapped. My guess is credit for this one goes to Clifford Lee."

"Make an example of him, or take revenge because he thought Richmond killed Maddie Strimp?"

Beckett shrugged. "Only way to know would be to ask him, and you know he wouldn't answer if you did." She then pulled out her cell phone and declared, "But first, we should probably call this in."

* * *

**_Thoughts?_**


	8. Chapter 8

Esposito and Ryan couldn't resist teasing their boss and her partner as soon as they arrived on the crime scene. "So," Esposito asked, smiling, "just going to 'track down' Barry Richmond, huh?"

Beckett took the teasing in stride. "Hey, how could I have known I was racing for second place?" She then turned her attention briefly to Esposito's partner. "You didn't..."

"Nothing on this one," Ryan replied to the unspoken question. "If the pattern holds, that means it's not one of his."

"Not one of whose?"

Ryan winced and blushed as a woman in a dark suit and trenchcoat joined the conversation. _Sorry_, he projected to the team through the mind-link, _she came in after you guys left to come talk to Richmond._

"Agent Shaw," Castle announced in greeting, acknowledging Ryan's comment only through the mind-link, "how nice to see you again."

"Mr. Castle," Shaw greeted Castle in return, "how nice to see you again, as always. Detectives," she greeted the rest of the team collectively, "I hear we might be looking for the same individual."

Beckett had no interest in giving up any more information than she absolutely had to. "Really? And who would that be?"

"First things first," said Shaw, nodding a head toward the area where Lanie was examining the body, "who's our friend over there?"

"Barry Richmond," Beckett replied. "We have two witnesses who've identified him as Madeline Strimp's boyfriend."

Shaw nodded, accepting that information. "And how'd he die?"

Beckett nodded, acknowledging that they should all re-enter the apartment to ask the expert. The group crossed through the living room until they reached Lanie. "So what do we have?" Beckett asked her friend.

"Good old-fashioned double tap," replied Lanie. "Killed by the GSW to the head, one to the chest done post-mortem."

"Time of death?" asked Beckett.

"Oh, he's been dead at least two days. I can narrow it down a little further once I get him back to the lab." _Or now, if you'd like to give me a hint_, Lanie projected to her friend through the mind-link.

Beckett took a discrete sniff. _Sorry_, Beckett projected, _can't help you show off this time..._

"It doesn't really matter," Shaw commented, discouragement clouding her voice, "at least where I'm concerned. Thank you, doctor."

Lanie nodded her acknowledgement of Shaw's comments before returning to work. Shaw then led the group back away from the body to a quiet area of the living room. "Detective Beckett," she asked, "I assume you know why I'm here?"

"You believe Madeline Strimp's death fits the pattern of a serial killer you've been tracking."

Shaw started doling out information slowly, fishing for a reaction from the detectives surrounding her. "The press has been calling him the Philadelphia Strangler. Guy strangles women in their apartments, no sign of forced entry. Far as we can tell he stalks his victims, picks the lock to their apartments, then waits until they come home to overpower his victims."

_All sounding like Tyson so far_, Esposito projected through the mind-link.

"Crime scenes are meticulously organized, so we don't have a whole lot of forensic evidence on him. I believe he wears gloves for the kill. His routine has been three kills a week for a month, then a month off...until three weeks ago when he dropped off our radar. Twelve murders at last count."

_Sounds a lot like Tyson to me as well_, Castle agreed with Esposito.

"Madeline Strimp's death seemed to fit the MO of the crime scenes in Philly."

_I don't think we're going to get rid of her_, chimed in Ryan.

_Yeah, me neither,_ agreed Beckett.

Agent Shaw watched the silent conversation warily, growing slowly discouraged by the lack of response from the group surrounding her. "Detective Beckett," she explained, "I have to be honest with you. I'm here on a hunch. Most of my colleagues have already given up on the strangler, assuming our perp is dead or in prison. So if we're not working the same case, just let me know and I'll be on my way."

Ryan reached deep into the agent's mind and saw a level of compassion, fear and determination that mirrored his own. _She's not going to give up on this case, whether we help her or not._

_And we've all seen what happens to people that Tyson targets as a threat_, added Castle.

Beckett sighed, knowing that her friends had a point. "Agent Shaw, I believe you may be right."

Shaw frowned in confusion. "But what about Mr. Richmond over there?"

"He's connected to Maddie Strimp, but not to our killer," Ryan replied.

"Do you have the files on the other murders so we can compare notes?" asked Beckett.

Shaw nodded. "They're at the FBI offices downtown, I can have them messengered to the precinct."

"Make the call, Agent Shaw," said Beckett. "It seems we may have a lot to talk about."

* * *

An hour later, the conference room was almost filled to its limited capacity as the three detectives sat down with Castle, Captain Gates and Agent Shaw. The table was rapidly getting covered with papers as the six people at the table read and compared the files on the table.

Esposito leaned back away from the table, needing to rest his eyes and process what he was reading. "Agent Shaw," he asked, "do you believe that one killer is behind all of these murders?"

Shaw nodded, flipping through a file as she explained her reasoning. "Strangling someone is an act of dominance. It's a way for the killer to prove that he has some control in a life that may feel totally out of control. That's why he stalks his victims. He's trying to plan everything down to the last detail. He believes the more control he has over his kill, the less chance he'll have of being caught. There's too much that these murders have in common for them to have been committed by more than one individual. No, this is one guy. And he had experience long before he ever went to Philly."

The three detectives shared a knowing look, Castle catching quickly how much Agent Shaw's explanation matched Tyson. Castle, though, also noticed how the agent's mind was distracted, processing some new piece of information even as she was presenting the theories she already had. "There's something about the New York cases that's bothering you, though."

Agent Shaw looked up from the case she was reading to respond to Castle's comment. "The half-dozen early kills I understand. He was practicing, working his way up to what he did in Philly and what he's doing now. What I don't understand is why he's choosing his kills from this week to start leaving you a message."

"He's taunting us," said Beckett, an edge of long-standing frustration creeping into her voice. "We've come *this* close to catching him twice."

"You have?" asked Shaw, eyebrows raised in surprise. "So you know who he is?"

"His name is Jerry Tyson," Ryan replied. The edge in his voice was unmistakable, matching Beckett in its bitterness and frustration. "His New York press nickname is 3XK."

Castle picked up the explanation. "The last time we encountered Tyson, he dove off a bridge to fake his own death."

"So he believes you guys aren't capable of catching him?" asked Shaw. When the heads around the table nodded in agreement, she continued, "that's why he moved back to New York. He believes he's perfected his technique to the point where he can kill right under your noses and you can't do a thing about it." She looked up at the murder board, then around the room at the grim-set faces of the people around her...hoping her fresh eyes and firm resolve would do them some good. "So let's prove this bastard wrong."

"How?" asked Ryan.

"Find the odd sock," Castle chimed in.

Shaw nodded, getting up to focus on the murder boards. "We've got to find the differences between the murders. The similarities have told us who he is. The differences will tell us how to catch him."

* * *

"Honey?"

Kevin Ryan put the finishing touches on his signature lasagna before putting it in the oven. "Yeah?"

"Not that I don't enjoy the company," Jenny called out from the living room, "but is there some reason *why* we're having everyone over for dinner tonight?"

Ryan wiped some stray splashes of sauce off of his hands before coming out of the kitchen to talk to his wife. "I figured we could do with one more night of hanging out with our friends and enjoying some time with adults before the baby comes. Is there something wrong with that?"

Jenny wrapped her arms around her husband and leaned in to gently kiss him as best she could. "Have I mentioned lately that I love how *terrible* you are at lying to me?"

Ryan blushed, knowing he'd been caught. He leaned in to kiss his wife again before backing away to set the dinner table. "Something...came up the the other day. I didn't want to have to explain it over and over again, so I invited everyone over so I could get it done in one shot."

Jenny's curiosity kicked into overdrive. She started following her husband around the table as he laid out silverware. "Is it something about those nightmares you've been having?"

"Jen..." warned Ryan.

"Something *else*? You promised, no secrets, remember?"

"One shot, remember?" Ryan countered as the doorbell rang. He opened the door to find Alexis and his fellow Guardians on the other side, talking shop.

"So at this point," Lanie commented as she walked into the apartment, "we've got Tyson on the hook for 23 murders?"

Beckett nodded. "If our math's right, then yeah, between Philly and New York..."

"Whoa," exclaimed Lanie, letting out a low whistle as she hung up her coat. "So what's your next move?"

"Agent Shaw's team should be overrunning the precinct first thing in the morning," replied Beckett as she hung up her own coat. "I have a feeling she's going to be running this show."

Esposito raised an eyebrow in surprise at his boss' seeming willingness to cede control to the federal agent. "Are you sure that's wise, considering where we're getting most of our leads from?"

"We've had to work around that before," Beckett replied, giving Jenny a welcome hug as they entered the apartment. "We can manage."

Ryan and Esposito shot a knowing look between them as the women started talking with Jenny about the upcoming birth. _Are *you* sure you can handle Agent Shaw running the show?_ Esposito projected to his partner.

_You heard Beckett_, Ryan replied, taking a swig of his beer as he offered one to his partner. _We'll manage._

_Yeah, well we haven't had to *manage* the possibility of stuff magically flying around the precinct before..._Esposito countered. _It took Castle weeks to figure out how to do that even on a small scale without it wiping him out..._

The women's conversation abruptly stopped. Lanie turned around to confront her fiancé. "Uh, what was that, babe?"

Esposito shook his head in confusion at the gear switch in the conversation. "What was what, chica?"

"In the back of my head just now, I could have *sworn* I heard you were worrying about stuff magically flying around the precinct..."

Esposito's attention shot back to his partner, who threw up his hands to deflect the accusation. "Don't look at me!" Ryan exclaimed. "That link was supposed to be just between us..."

Alexis was more concerned with the content of the statement than who had thought it. "Wait a second, how would stuff start magically flying around the precinct? There's no way that dad would do something like that, it takes too much control for him to move stuff without having to devote his full attention to it..." Alexis caught the flash of a blush as it colored Ryan's cheeks. "Kevin?"

All attention flew back to Ryan. He responded in a way that looked like he was trying to distract everyone again. "Who'd like something to drink? You girls look like you could use something. Two beers, two waters sound good?" No one spoke or moved, confused as to why Ryan wasn't staying on the subject. Finally, Ryan realized that that time was going to be just as good as any to fess up. He continued his talking about the drinks, although his nervousness was clearly starting to show through more and more. "Okay? Two beers two waters coming up."

Everyone but Esposito watched in amazement as the refrigerator door gently opened without anyone being in the kitchen. As two bottles of beer and two bottles of water floated to the living room and into the hands of the four women, it was obvious to everyone who Esposito had been worrying about. Jenny spoke up first. "Honey? Is...this what you invited everyone over to talk about?"

Ryan nodded. He encouraged everyone to head to the living room and sit down, since the discussion had started in earnest ahead of schedule. "I think the first time it happened was yesterday. Javi caught the milk floating in mid-air as I was making myself a cup of coffee. I didn't even notice I was doing it."

"That's why you're worried about things flying around the precinct, Javi?" asked Lanie. "You don't think Kevin has control over this yet?"

"How were any of us doing the first twenty-four hours after this happened?" Castle chimed in. "Esposito may have a point."

"True...but a big part of the problem back then was that none of us were in a mindset where we believed stuff was even possible," countered Beckett, "let alone that we were capable of doing these kind of things."

Alexis was less interested in the short-term issue of control and more interested in getting the full story. "Do you have any idea how you might have developed this new ability, Kevin?"

"Well..." Ryan replied, "the best working theory I have so far is that this happened during the battle with the old witch."

"The same time Stephanie developed her abilities?" asked Alexis.

Ryan nodded. "I didn't think about it at the time because I thought it was only something I was capable of doing in someone else's mind, not in the real world. But yesterday I was so tired from the nightmares...that...I..."

Alexis jumped to her friend's side. "Kevin? Kevin!"

All other conversations ceased as Alexis' screams alerted the group to the fact that Ryan was, suddenly, no longer conscious.

And no one could explain why.

* * *

**_Comments, questions, snide remarks? All are welcome...yes, even the snide remarks!_**


	9. Chapter 9

He couldn't remember a time when he had ever enjoyed himself quite as much. Normally, he would take time off to rest up, relax, and enjoy the way the press would strike fear into the hearts of women at the mere mention of his name. But this past week, indulging in the simple art of hunting one victim after another after another...

It was like the difference between a regular meal...and Thanksgiving.

The only thing that disappointed him was the *lack* of press coverage he'd had since he'd moved back to New York. Of course, he knew he had some control over that. If he wanted to go public, it could be done with a simple phone call.

But he had no interest in going public. Not. Just. Yet. He had other things to worry about.

Like how to add another redhead to his list of conquests. And pull off his third kill in three days.

There just wasn't time for his usual ritual of stalking; this was going to have to be a crime of opportunity. So...where to find a redhead in New York City?

Outside an Irish pub, of course.

So while squatting in a dark, dirty alleyway was not usually his idea of a good time...tonight was a glorious exception.

His pulse started to quicken as the woman he had been waiting for came out of the back door of the pub for a cigarette break. He could just barely make out the blasting volume of a soccer broadcast as the pub door opened and slowly swung closed. _This is it,_ he thought excitedly, _five minutes and counting._

He pulled his prey into the shadows, dragging her back into the corner by the advantage surprise had given him. She was a big one, almost as tall as he was, and a spitfire; she thrashed around with a ferocity that surprised him. Still, he refused to be defeated; he grit his teeth, wrapped his legs around her from behind and tightened his hold, riding her like a bucking bronco until she finally submitted to his will, slowing and slumping until she finally surrendered at the point of death.

He smiled as she fell to the ground, appreciating that it wasn't going to take much to pose her in his favorite pose of eternal rest. But that wasn't the main message he wanted to sent. No, for that message he needed his trusty Swiss Army knife...

* * *

Ryan nearly fell over as he shot up to a seated position from his prone position on the couch. His family and friends were around him in an instant. "Kevin?!" exclaimed Jenny, grateful just to see her husband regaining consciousness. "Are you all right?" Her husband's response was a loud groan as he collapsed back down on the couch.

Lanie put her hand on Ryan's lower leg, racing through his body in a healing trance. As she came out of it, her eyes widened as her mind made the missing connections. "Kevin, I think I've figured out what's going on. How are you feeling?"

"Weak," replied Ryan. "How do I look?"

That was the last question any of them had expected to be the first question Ryan would want to know the answer to. "What do you mean?" asked Alexis.

"The last couple of times I woke up from a nightmare," Ryan replied, his voice slowly gaining strength, "I would see Jerry Tyson when I looked in the mirror."

"So you did have...?" asked Beckett.

Ryan nodded, answering Beckett's unspoken question. Esposito put his hand on Ryan's shoulder, copying the nightmare into his own memory. "I'll call the captain," Esposito announced to the group, "figure out how we can call this in."

As Esposito got up to go place the phone call, Lanie focused on her patient...starting with correcting his terminology. "Kevin, you aren't having nightmares."

"I'm not?" asked Ryan, surprised and confused.

Lanie shook her head. "A nightmare implies that you're sleeping when this happens. I don't think that's what's happening. Kev...I think you're blacking out."

Ryan's eyes widened, shocked by Lanie's diagnosis. "I'm blacking *out*?"

Lanie nodded. "That's why you're so weak when you come out of it. It's not that you're not getting a good night's sleep, you're just...not *there*."

"I must be in Tyson's head, then" said Ryan, still somewhat in a daze, "that's why I'm remembering so much of the kill in detail."

"I think so, yeah," agreed Lanie.

The oven's timer went off, but no one seemed to be interested in eating anymore. Esposito pulled the lasagna out of the oven and turned the appliance off before returning to the group. "Gates said she would take care of the 'anonymous tip' this time," said Esposito. "We should be getting calls from dispatch in the next half hour."

"What are you guys going to do?" Alexis asked quietly.

"Go to work," insisted Ryan, reassured by the gentle squeeze of support from his wife's hand atop his own. "Get this guy, once and for all. And hopefully get a good night's sleep."

"Anyone figured out what we're going to tell Agent Shaw yet?" asked Esposito.

No one seemed to have an answer for that.

* * *

Even with the floodlights brought in to illuminate the crime scene, the flashing lights of the patrol cars still danced around the alleyway as the 12th Precinct Guardians arrived. The group was all business, even as no words were verbally exchanged between them. _Ryan, Esposito...try to spend as much time as possible working the alleyway, _ordered Beckett through the mind-link._ If you can avoid getting roped into doing grunt work, do it. Walk through Tyson's attack as best as you can. Who knows, maybe we'll get lucky... _

_Got it, _Ryan and Esposito sent back in unison.

Beckett and Castle then moved on to the body, where Perlmutter was not alone. "Agent Shaw? I'm surprised to see you here," Beckett lied smoothly, "I figured a redhead in an alleyway wouldn't fit the Strangler's profile."

"Normally, she wouldn't," Shaw agreed. "But there's a little something carved into the victim's left wrist that's led me to believe she's one of Tyson's. Doctor?"

Perlmutter shot a helpless look in Beckett and Castle's direction, then rotated the victim's wrist to show a 1 carved into it. "Well, that leaves out Ryan," commented Castle. "His badge number starts with a 4 and a 2."

"But yours starts with a 4 and a 1, detective Beckett," countered Agent Shaw. "You seem to be a magnet for this kind of trouble..."

Beckett couldn't help but shoot a teasing glance at Castle. "Don't I know it." She then returned her attention to the medical examiner. "What else do we have here, doc?"

"Not much," Perlmutter replied at the barest of whispers, trusting that Beckett could hear him. "But I'm just going to stall so you can perform your own exam, okay?" Beckett nodded quickly, just enough for Perlmutter to notice. She started running her hands over the body as Perlmutter explained, "Pretty similar to the other cases, really. The vic was suffocated; your killer covered her nose and mouth from behind. The little message in her wrist was carved post-mortem. And the attack was quick; probably under five minutes."

Shaw was impressed by the medical examiner's pronouncement. "How do you figure?"

Perlmutter held up the woman's right hand. "She was smoking a cigarette when she was attacked. After she was dead, the killer didn't bother to take the lit cigarette out of her fingers, it just burned all the way down. That's what these marks are."

"Time of death?" asked Agent Shaw.

"She hasn't been dead very long," replied Perlmutter. "Probably between 8 and 10pm this evening."

It seemed like they had discovered everything they were going to learn from the body. Beckett stopped her own exam when Perlmutter stopped talking. "Thank you, doctor," said Shaw, concluding the meeting with Perlmutter and encouraging the investigators to move on to gathering evidence from the surrounding crime scene.

As the group backed away, Perlmutter flagged down detective Beckett. "Did you find anything?" he asked quietly.

Beckett shook her head. "A few odd bruises around her legs, nothing major beyond the cigarette burn. Nice catch, by the way."

Perlmutter replied with a rare, small smile before they parted ways. "What can I say? Hanging around you has inspired me to have more of an eye for detail."

Sharing the medical examiner's smile, Beckett left Perlmutter to finish up his work and caught up with her partner and the Feds as Shaw told them, "This is a new record. Three kills in three days."

"Do we have an ID yet?" asked Beckett.

"Annemarie O'Dowd," announced Agent Avery. "She was a cocktail waitress at the pub."

Beckett asked, "Did anyone see Tyson in the pub tonight?"

"Nope," said Shaw, shaking her head.

"He could have changed his identity," suggested Castle. "He's known to have done that before."

"He didn't change his identity," Ryan insisted.

Shaw and Avery both jumped, neither agent expecting to see the detectives coming up behind them. "Detective Ryan!" Shaw exclaimed. "I didn't see you there."

Ryan seemed to be resisting the urge to smirk. _I guess the perception filter worked then_, he projected through the mind-link.

Beckett ignored Ryan's comment, keeping the conversation strictly focused on business. "What d'ya got for us?"

Ryan produced an evidence bag with a small scrap of paper in it. "I found this credit card receipt in the back of the alley over there." He handed the receipt to Beckett, who examined it closely. "The name on the receipt look familiar?"

Beckett's smile returned. "It seems the person who used this card would be none other than one Jerry Tyson."

Agent Shaw held out the hand for the receipt, which Beckett handed over to her. The agent examined the receipt even more closely than Beckett had. "If this *is* Tyson," she announced, squinting at the faint lettering on the receipt, "then first thing in the morning we should be able to make out enough information to contact the credit card company and get his address. Good work."

Ryan and Esposito nodded as Ryan took the receipt back from Agent Shaw. _Bro_, Esposito asked his partner through the mind-link, _since Tyson's already gotten in a kill today, you think you'll be able to get a decent night's sleep?_

_I hope so, man,_ Ryan replied as he handed off the receipt to one of the forensic techs. _I really hope so._

* * *

_**And on that note, I hope all of you got (or will get), a really good night's sleep. After you leave some comments!**_


	10. Chapter 10

Kevin Ryan woke up the next morning with a smile on his face...until he got off the elevator and tried to walk into the homicide bullpen. It felt like federal agents were everywhere. He tripped over a massive bundle of cables as a technician ran extra power cables to the large conference room, then had to wheel around just in time to miss spilling his coffee on a couple of Feds as they walked by.

Esposito caught up to his partner as he rounded the corner near the box. "Nice to see you made it through the jungle," he teased.

"Yeah, just barely," Ryan commented. "What do we got?"

"Beckett's working on getting us the warrant for the credit card info. The ADA's decided to be a pain in the neck about this, for some reason..."

"Let me guess," said Ryan, "Toni Gonzalez?" Ryan couldn't help but chuckle when Esposito nodded. "She never forgave Beckett for that whole thing with Castle, did she?"

"Apparently not," replied Esposito.

The two detectives settled into their desks, checking messages and e-mails. _So how'd you sleep? _Esposito asked his partner through the mind-link.

Ryan's face relaxed into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. _Best night's sleep I've had all week._

_We'll get this asswipe, bro_, Esposito countered with grim determination. _I swear, he will *not* get away this time._

Their conversation was interrupted as Beckett got off the phone. She crossed the bullpen to meet her fellow detectives at their desks, Castle hot on her heels. "The credit card is being billed to an address in the village near Varick and King Street. You boys up for a road trip?"

Ryan and Esposito jumped up from their chairs, grabbing their coats and putting them on before their computers finished shutting down. "Hell yeah," exclaimed Esposito, "let's go."

The Guardians got about twenty feet out of the bullpen before they were stopped by Agent Shaw. "Going somewhere, detectives?"

"We got an address on that credit card," replied Beckett. "84 King Street."

Shaw turned around to a group of agents behind her. "Okay guys, let's get moving."

Esposito had to resist the urge to sigh loudly. _Great. Just great. Now the circus has to come with us..._

* * *

The 'circus' escort, unfortunately, meant that a compliment of five was headed up the six flights of stairs to apartment 6J. Agent Shaw took the lead up the stairs, followed by the three detectives and Castle bringing up the rear. The group flanked the door as they reached the top floor of the building; women on the left, men on the right. Castle cast shields for everyone just before Shaw spoke into her radio. "Avery, we're in position."

"Copy that," Beckett listened in to Avery's response. "According to the building super, the only other way out of that building is through the window we've got eyes on. If Tyson's in there, we'll get him."

"Copy that," Shaw returned warily.

With everyone ready to go, Beckett announced their presence. "NYPD! TYSON, OPEN THE DOOR!"

When Beckett heard nothing in response, she projected through the mind-link, _He's not in there, guys. Rest of this is just for show._

_Copy that_, three voices responded in unison through the link.

Beckett backed up against the wall, bracing herself to give the illusion of the strength she would normally have needed to kick the door down. She then kicked the door in easily, her team fanning out to 'check' the small apartment room by room. Castle hung back just outside the front door, waiting until Ryan and Esposito and Beckett and Shaw officially announced that the apartment was clear.

"He's not here," Shaw told her team over the radio. "Keep an eye out. If anyone shows up matching Tyson's description grab him *immediately*."

"Copy that," Avery responded back.

Shaw took control of the scene almost immediately. "Turn this place upside down. We need any evidence of trophies, anything that ties him to any of the murders."

"Yes, ma'am," replied Ryan and Esposito in unison.

Castle caught up to his partner, keeping their conversation away from Shaw by using their mind-link. _Anything?_

Beckett had to resist the urge to shake her head. _No. It's weird. The bodies all had this smell around the area where Tyson choked and suffocated his victims. I can't really explain it, but I always just associated it with Tyson. I figured if this were where he was living the smell would be everywhere._

_And is it?_

_No, that's just it. I'm not smelling it at *all*. I don't think Jerry Tyson's ever *been* here, let alone lived here._

A guy pushed the door to the apartment open, carrying two paper bags full of groceries. The federal agent and three detectives in the room pounced on the man from the minute they saw even a part of him. Calls of "NYPD! FREEZE!" echoed loudly throughout the apartment and hallway.

The guy reacted like the cops were carrying on a cordial conversation instead of yelling at him and aiming guns at his head. He set down his groceries and raised his hands in surrender. "If you would be so kind," he asked with sarcastic politeness, "can you possibly wait two minutes until I put my frozen foods away before you 'take me downtown'?"

Shaw never lowered her weapon even as she talked to the other four people in the room. "This guy's not the Triple Killer, is he?"

The three detectives were already well on their way to holstering their weapons. "No," replied Beckett, "he's not."

Castle couldn't help but notice the casual way the guy was handling having his apartment swarmed by cops and federal agents. "You sound like you were expecting us."

The guy took advantage of the opportunity to start putting away his perishable foods as he talked. "I was. But I can assure you that this is all a simple misunderstanding."

Esposito was highly skeptical of the 'simple misunderstanding' statement. He shoved the guy around by the shoulders, patting him down to collect his memories. Esposito then pulled on some evidence gloves and pulled the guy's wallet out of the pocket of his pants, flipping through it to verify the man's identity...and the reason they were in the apartment in the first place. "Okay, Mr. David Terkowich, care to explain to the class why you're using a credit card with the name Jerry Tyson on it?"

Shaw's eyes widened in reaction to Esposito's question. She quickly holstered her own weapon and pulled on a pair of evidence gloves herself. "Let me see that." Shaw took the wallet out of Esposito's hands, flipping carefully through the handful of ID and credit cards in the man's wallet until she found the card Esposito mentioned. "This is the card you found the receipt for?"

Esposito nodded. "The last four digits match up."

"Where did you get this card?" asked Shaw.

"I answered an ad on Craigslist."

While the Guardians nodded in complete acceptance of Terkowich's statement (having gotten it validated through the mind-link), Shaw regarded the man with great skepticism. "Really? You expect me to believe that? What did the ad say? 'Identity thief wanted?'"

Terkowich seemed to be prepared for the skepticism. He went to his computer, pulling a couple of pieces of paper and a ripped-open envelope out of a drawer near the printer. Scanning the papers to confirm that they were the ones he wanted, Terkowich brought the papers over to the agent, handing them to her in order.

"This is the ad from Craigslist."

Shaw pulled on some evidence gloves before she examined the first page, reading it out for the rest of the group around her. "'Need to make a little extra money? Find out about my safe and easy way to take care of all your expenses for the next month. First one to contact me gets the cash!' Then there's an email address at the end of the ad."

"Well," added Terkowich, "evidently I was the first one to respond to the ad because I got an e-mail back asking for my snail mail address. I was sent the card with this note."

Shaw examined the envelope first. "It's postmarked New York City."

"What do you want to bet it's for the 34th Street post office?" countered Beckett.

"The zip code would be a match for that," mused Shaw. She then read the note. "'Sign the back of this card and use it for whatever you need.'"

"He's been building a false paper trail," Ryan commented.

Shaw nodded. "Because he knew we would follow any breadcrumbs he laid down for us."

Only one more question was left for Terkowich to answer. "Have you ever been to O'Malley's Pub on 18th Street?" asked Beckett.

"Yeah," he replied, "I went there for a beer with some buds last week."

Shaw's face fell with Terkowich's response. She rounded up the rest of the group to leave Terkowich to the rest of his day. "Thank you for your time," she told Terkowich, gathering up the papers...and the credit card with Tyson's name on it.

Terkowich noticed the one piece of plastic that the cops were taking with them. "Hey, don't I get to keep the card?!" he exclaimed.

Shaw's response could simply be summed up in one word.

"No."

* * *

**_All comments welcome!_**


	11. Chapter 11

The group's return to the precinct was a disappointing low compared to the hopeful high everyone was on as they left for Terkowich's apartment. Shaw retreated to the conference room to see what kind of progress her team was making on the files from the past cases. She announced to the roomful of agents, "What can you guys tell me about our friend Mr. Tyson that I don't already know?"

The first agent began, "His first eight kills were attractive blonds, strangled with a three strand twisted quarter-inch green and white nylon rope. First three were killed in a week, each killed in their apartments in buildings with no doormen, then he took a month off before killing the next three. Each woman was posed like they were in coffins with hands clasped."

Another agent picked up the story. "When the locals were closing in on him he got himself sent to prison on a first-time felony drug possession charge and served four years. Victim number seven, a Linda...Russo, was killed two blocks away from her apartment and *not* posed."

"Why the differences?" asked Shaw.

"Linda Russo had called into a tip line during the time of the first six murders," Beckett chimed in, "she witnessed Tyson coming out of the apartment of number six, Sara Townsend. Russo was killed on the street because Tyson knew she wouldn't have let him into her apartment."

"Four years after the night in question..." Shaw considered the information she was getting in light of what she knew about the current murders. "So we know he holds on to old grudges for extended periods of time...continue."

Agent Avery corrected Beckett's facts. "Technically...victims seven and eight could be considered the work of a copycat. Tyson had a partner, a...Marcus Gates, who committed the two murders while Tyson was still in prison."

Shaw commented, "Partner, huh?" It seemed like she was slightly surprised by the idea.

"Partners usually have some level of codependent relationship between them," Castle explained to no one in particular. Turning his attention to Shaw, he added, "but Tyson's partners weren't so much partners as they were pawns, people he used to create alibis, et cetera."

Avery continued forward with his narrative, ignoring Castle. "Gates had also been hired by Tyson to murder Donna Gallagher during that time, but he was arrested while making the attempt and Gallagher went into witness protection. Gates later confessed to being 3XK and taking credit for all eight murders. Tyson then negotiated a deal for early release in exchange for his testimony against Gates."

"What did Gates get for his efforts?" asked Shaw.

"$100,000. The money went to pay for a heart valve surgery for his foster brother, Paul McCardle," replied Ryan.

Shaw immediately picked up on that piece of information. "So Tyson has access to large amounts of cash...continue."

Agent Avery did as he was told. "Tyson was about to leave protective custody and go into the wind when, apparently, Mr. Castle over there fingered Tyson as the real Triple Killer. Tyson knocked Detective Ryan unconscious, stealing his service weapon, then tied up Mr. Castle and escaped."

"That's why he's carving Detective Beckett's badge number into these women's wrists," Shaw realized, explaining her theory to Castle, "he blames you for us knowing who he is, and he knows that the way to get to you...is through her."

Avery continued forward. "Jerry Tyson doesn't to seem to have much love for *anybody* connected to the 12th precinct. Tyson gave detective Ryan's stolen service weapon to one Philip Lee, an old prison associate, who used the gun to murder one Jane Herzfeld. I'm guessing that he was hoping that Detective Ryan would get fingered for the murder. And then almost a year later, Tyson framed Mr. Castle for the murder of a...Tessa Horton. His goal, apparently, was to have Castle murdered behind bars by another prison associate. When his plan failed, Tyson faked his death by diving off a bridge after being shot by Detective Beckett and Mr. Castle."

"Which is when he skipped town, changed his MO and set up shop in Philadelphia," Shaw concluded.

Avery had one last piece of information to pass along to his boss. "Once Tyson was presumed dead, Donna Gallagher asked to be taken out of witness protection and allowed to return to New York. That's why she was around to be Tyson's second victim this time around."

"Okay..." Commented Esposito, "but why did Tyson come back *here*? He wouldn't have known Donna Gallagher had left Witsec, so he didn't come back for her..."

"He came back for me," Castle stated simply. "First he just wanted me dead because I identified him. Then he wanted to ruin me so I knew what it felt like for him. Now..."

"Now he wants to go after the one thing he believes you care about more than anything else," Shaw concluded. Castle nodded in agreement, so the agent continued to add on to her theory, talking as she thought it through. "In a city of eight million people, there's no way that Tyson would have known his ex had left Witsec and come back. Donna Gallagher had to be a crime of opportunity. He ran into her on the street, recognized her, then followed her back to her apartment to kill her there. And we already know that Annemarie O'Dowd was a crime of opportunity because of where she was found. Which means that there's been only one woman among the women he's killed this time that he stalked prior to her death...Madeline Strimp."

"It makes sense," added Beckett. "Maddie Strimp worked at an ultra-exclusive VIP lounge called the Red Dragon. Tyson has means, maybe he was a client of hers?"

Shaw seemed to make a decision as Beckett was talking. "Then let's go pay a visit to the Red Dragon, see if anybody recognizes him."

"There...there's one small problem with that," countered Beckett.

Shaw frowned at Beckett, clearly confused. "What would that problem be, detective?"

"The Red Dragon is owned by Philip Lee's father, Clifford Lee. He's...not a big fan of mine."

Shaw understood immediately. "Because you helped put his son behind bars." Undaunted, the agent continued to get her coat and pull herself together to go out. "In that case, it's probably better if you don't go with me. Just point me in the direction of the place. I'm sure I can handle it."

Ryan seemed to be inspired by Shaw's idea to head back to the Red Dragon. "I'll go with you," he volunteered.

_Bro_, Esposito countered through the mind-link, are you sure that's a smart thing to do? _Clifford Lee's not a real big fan of you, either..._

_True_, Ryan agreed, _but things have...changed since then._ The detective had to resist the urge to crack a smile. _I have a feeling Mr. Lee might be a little more...open to talking this time._

Esposito, in turn, had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. _Okay, but if Lee ends up howling like a monkey, you're the one who's going to have to explain it to the FBI..._

* * *

Agent Shaw took in her surroundings as she walked through the bustling central corridor of the Red Dragon. "So this is an ultra-VIP lounge?"

Ryan could only shrug, this having been his first time to the club as well. "From what I hear it's much more impressive at night."

The pair caught up with the club's owner as he was signing for an incoming liquor delivery. "Clifford Lee?" asked Shaw.

Lee looked up from the clipboard and smiled. "Detective Ryan! So good to see you. Tell me, did you stop by because you lost another service weapon, perhaps?" His tone quickly turned bitter. "Sorry, but I don't have another son for you to frame with your missing gun..."

Shaw pulled out her identification quickly, trying to diffuse the situation before Ryan had a chance to respond. "Mr. Lee, I'm Agent Jordan Shaw. We're here about Madeline Strimp."

Ryan took the edge off of Lee's anger, ignoring the jibes. _Let them do their jobs and get it over with..._he projected in Lee's voice.

Lee seemed to stare them down with glaring skepticism before reluctantly relenting. "What do you need?" he grumbled.

"We believe the man who killed Madeline Strimp was a client," Ryan told him. "We'd like to show his picture around to the hostesses, see if any of them recognize him."

Shaw handed Lee a picture of Tyson, which he studied carefully. Ryan caught the flash of recognition in Lee's mind as he looked at the photograph.

Agent Shaw caught it as well. "Do you recognize this man, Mr. Lee?" she asked.

Lee hesitated, clearly unwilling to give up on the confidentiality he knew his clients prized. Ryan...encouraged him to get over it. _Answer her._

"David Terkowich," Lee spat out before he realized what he was doing. "His name is David Terkowich."

Shaw's eyes widened as her mind made the connection immediately. "Are you *sure*?" she asked him. Lee nodded.

Ryan then remembered something that Beckett had told him about Lee's level of involvement in the club. "You don't know him as a client, do you?" He reached into Lee's mind, finding his connection to Tyson almost immediately. _Tell them, _he projected into Tyson's mind.

Lee hesitated, unwilling to shame himself by admitting how he knew the man he knew as David Terkowich. "You are certain this man killed Madeline Strimp?"

Shaw nodded. "And almost two dozen other women."

Lee let out a low whistle, impressed by the number even as he was repulsed by the idea of killing a woman. Ryan pressed further to get Lee to publicly admit the connection between the two men. "How do you know David Terkowich?"

Lee sighed, relenting under the constant stream of thoughts Ryan was pushing into the man's mind. "David is my business partner. He helped me build this club."

"We're going to need any information you have on Mr. Terkowich," Shaw insisted. Lee nodded at Ryan's urging, grabbing pen and paper from behind the hostess station and writing down the contact information before he had a chance to think about it.

Shaw was on the phone the second they were out of the club. "Avery, we need to get everything we can on a David Terkowich, including financials. Yes, the guy from the apartment. He apparently swapped identities with Tyson. Terkowich is his new partner. You'll have everything when I get back to the precinct? Good. See you then." Once she ended the call, Shaw turned her attention to her current 'partner'. "Nice work in there, detective. I'm impressed that you didn't let Lee's greeting get to you."

Ryan blew off the compliment, "Yeah, well..."

He never got a chance to finish the statement. Ryan's eyes rolled back in his head, collapsing on the ground just outside the Red Dragon. Shaw was on her phone again in an instant, checking for a pulse as she dialed 911. "I have an officer down! Repeat, I have an officer down at Pell and Doyers...I don't know, he just collapsed..."

* * *

**_I refuse to apologize for the cliffhanger ending. You'll just have to chew me out in the comments...:-D_**


	12. Chapter 12

Ryan stood in the unfamiliar apartment, unsure of where he was and why he was there...until he saw who was in the apartment with him, making himself comfortable on the couch. _Tyson_. He went to pull his service weapon...only to discover it wasn't there. He went to physically tackle the man...and went straight through him. _I must be in his head,_ he thought, _but then why am I not seeing through his eyes anymore?_

A comment Alexis once made floated through his mind. _Knowledge is power...because I know I'm here now, I'm *actually* here, I guess..._

Tyson was flipping through the channels, restlessly watching the muted television, using closed captioning to understand what was going on on the screen. _Nothing_, he grumbled, his thoughts ringing clearly through Ryan's mind, _three kills back and the press has said *nothing* about me! What does it take for a serial killer to get noticed in New York City anymore..._

He flipped off the television and angrily flung the remote into a nearby chair. Tyson got up and started pacing the room, considering his options. _Do I change my MO, make it more spectacular, more gruesome? No, _he decided, shaking his head angrily, _then I'll just have to work twice as hard to make sure they give me the proper credit. Go back to the nylon rope?_ He sighed at the thought of it. _Nah, that's way too boring..._

"You could just turn yourself in," Ryan spat out bitterly, rolling his eyes, annoyed that he had to listen to thoughts like this.

Tyson jumped, wheeling around like someone had poked him from behind. His heart was racing and he had to work to catch his breath. "Who said that?!"

Ryan's heart was racing just as fast. "You can hear me?!" he exclaimed.

Tyson started pacing the room. "This is crazy," he said to no one in particular, "I can't be hearing things...I can't...I can't..."

Ryan caught his breath as he watched Tyson's pacing, trying to accept his current situation and use it for good. _If he can hear me, maybe I can talk him out of doing this_..."I gotta get out of here," he told Tyson, trying to talk in the other man's voice, "this is too many kills in a week, I'm gonna slip up for sure..."

Tyson shook his head angrily, fighting Ryan's thoughts with every part of his arrogant, rational mind. "No! Those idiots have been chasing me for how long now? They won't even find this woman for a couple of days. *Catch* me? Not a chance in hell..."

All talk ceased when Tyson heard the sound of a key going into the lock on the front door. Adrenaline coursing through his veins, Tyson heard nothing but the pounding of his own heartbeat as he hid in the bedroom closet.

Ryan fought his rapidly draining energy, trying to keep up the running commentary in Tyson's mind. "This isn't going to work. She'll head for the window and get away, and then the cops will get here before..."

Tyson ignored him. His mind worked on an ancient predatory instinct, waiting for his prey, tensed like a cobra ready to strike. The woman kicked off her heels at the door and shrugged off her blazer, flipping through her mail as she headed to the bedroom.

Ryan was in a panic. "Get out of here!" he called out to the woman, "He's going to kill you! Run!"

The woman never heard him. She tossed the mail on the bed and opened the closet door. Tyson wrapped his hands around her neck, squeezing before she ever had a chance to scream.

"LET HER GO, TYSON!" Ryan screamed with every remaining fiber of his being, desperate to get through to the man.

Tyson's hands separated for a split second, giving the woman a chance to escape. She stumbled out of the bedroom, gasping for air, desperate to get out of the apartment but having trouble standing up...dizzy from the lack of oxygen.

Furious that he listened to the strange new voice in his head, Tyson pulled his knife from his pocket. She can't leave, he thought, she's seen me. He ran through the apartment, catching up with the woman just as she was reaching for the doorknob. He rammed the knife into the woman's jugular vein.

The woman staggered back from the door, clutching at her neck. She couldn't scream; her mind was too hazy from the panic, lack of oxygen and blood loss. Her wound was pumping out blood with every beat of her dying heart, spraying it everywhere.

Ryan took blindly swinging punches at Tyson...at the door...at the wound. He was desperate to help the woman, to stop what he knew to be inevitable. But he couldn't. He was nothing more than a fading thought in Tyson's mind, and Tyson clearly wasn't listening to him...

"Why'd you do it, Jerry?" Ryan spat out angrily as he gasped for air. "Why'd you kill her?"

Tyson slipped and fell in the dying woman's blood, sitting on the floor covered in it. "I couldn't let her leave," he said quietly, "she saw me." He grabbed the woman's wrist almost on autopilot, yanking the knife out of her throat and carving a 3 without giving any conscious thought to what he was doing.

"Why don't you stab yourself next, *Jerry*, Ryan hissed, "make life easier for the rest of us..."

Tyson ignored him. "Couldn't let her leave..." he muttered, his mind no longer thinking clearly..."I couldn't let her leave..."

Ryan followed Tyson as he walked through the apartment's front door, leaving a bloody handprint when he closed the door. His feet left a bloody trail behind him as he walked down the stairs and out of the building's back entrance...his rational thoughts only returning to him when the cold night entered his lungs. He spat out a string of vicious curses when he saw the bloody mess he had become. _Oh great,_ he thought, _how the hell am I going to walk around New York looking like this?_

A homeless man turned the corner and entered the dark alley where Tyson was hiding in its shadows. _Oh well_, he sighed, _any port in a storm, I suppose..._

* * *

Jenny Ryan held her husband's hand, listening to the humming, hissing and beeping of the machines in the room with them. While those machines weren't keeping him alive, as far as she knew, they were supposed to be helping Dr. Parrish and Dr. Perlmutter figure out why her husband had not yet awakened from his latest blackout. _Fat lot of good they've done so far, _she thought bitterly.

She had always been afraid they would end up like this. Him hooked up to machines, her spending long, sleepless hours in a hospital chair by his side. She had always assumed the enemy would have been a bullet, though. Not her husband's mind.

A gentle kick startled Jenny out of her train of thought. She rubbed her belly at the spot where her daughter decided to fight for her attention. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," she cooed. "I'm just worried about your daddy." She squeezed her husband's hand, a tear threatening to fall down her cheek as her voice broke. "He's very special, you know. You probably do know, don't you? That's the one secret he's kept from me...he hasn't told me if he's been able to talk to you yet. He told me that was private between you and him, though, so maybe..." She rubbed her belly as she thought of the one hope she hadn't yet thought to count on. "If you and daddy are talking, can you tell him that I need him to wake up? Please?"

Jenny's focus switched a second time when she heard a gentle tapping at the window. She got up as quickly as her body allowed and shuffled over to the window to open it. She didn't need to ask who her unusual visitor was. "You must be Katya," Jenny told her in greeting. "Please, come in."

Katya was surprised by the welcome she received. "You know who I am, Jenny Ryan?"

"I do," Jenny replied as she closed the window. Her heart ached as she shuffled toward her husband while she explained, "Kevin and I made a promise to each other when he was first 'blessed' with this crazy gift of his. Since I can't read his mind like he can read mine, he swore to never keep secrets from me. So far, I believe he has kept his promise. He's told me all about you."

"Then you know that you have nothing to fear from me?" asked Katya. Jenny nodded. Katya stared down at the still form of her beloved Guardian, her heart breaking at the sight of the man she knew as so energetic and so very full of life lying motionless in front of her. "What happened to him?"

"He's been chasing a very evil man," Jenny replied, squeezing her husband's hand from the other side of the bed. "This man has killed a lot of women, and has threatened the Guardians many times. Kevin wants to get him so badly he's getting sucked into the man's head when he kills."

Katya's head tilted sideways, looking at something that Jenny figured she couldn't see. "Ah," Katya commented sadly, "that's what that is..."

"What?" asked Jenny, concerned. "What do you see?"

"There is a...black spot on his aura. It could be this great evil he is so obsessed with."

Jenny took what the vampire claimed to be seeing on faith. "Have you ever seen something like this before?"

Katya shook her head. "I am sorry, Jenny. I have not." The vampire's face fell as she considered her friend's predicament, then closed off in a grim determination. "I will find this man who has threatened the Guardians..."

"No," Jenny cut her off, her face showing a level of determination at least equal to the vampire's.

Katya frowned, surprised by Jenny's reaction. "No?"

"No. Katya, I do not want you to go after the man the Guardians are hunting."

"Why not?"

"Well for one thing," Jenny insisted, "right now Kevin is stuck somewhere between that man's mind and his own, and there's no way I'm going to let you possibly jeopardize my husband's chances of coming home to his family. Is that clear?"

Katya immediately understood the woman's point. "Yes, ma'am."

"That's not the only reason." Jenny's face softened as she looked up at the face of the woman who, she was sure, loved her husband as much as she did. "Katya, Kevin has told me what happens to your kind when they feast on human blood. And what you've done to distance yourself from that. Katya, if you...if you crossed that line to save my husband, he would never forgive himself. And I would never forgive myself if I couldn't stop you in his place."

Katya looked into Ryan's still face, caressing his hand as if it had the ability to speak for him. "Kevin definitely married the right woman..."

Jenny smiled, accepting the compliment. Then the smile quickly disappeared as she pushed for the response she knew she needed to hear. "Katya, *swear* to me that you will not kill the man my husband is going after."

Katya sighed, knowing that Kevin's wife wanted to hear the vow that Kevin would have wanted to hear in her place. "I swear on the lives of the honored ones, I will not *hunt* the man whom your husband is currently seeking...but I cannot say that I will not protect him when he cannot protect himself."

Jenny looked at the closed eyes of the man she loved, squeezing his hand to reassure herself that he wasn't going anywhere. "Katya, I can't ask for any more than that."

* * *

**_Yep, two chapters today. Once I started the scene with Jenny and Katya I knew I couldn't sleep until it was finished. Did you enjoy it? Let me know in the comments. :-)_**


	13. Chapter 13

Detective David Tyler was sure that he was heading toward one of the longest days of his life. The first sign of trouble was when his partner met him at the perimeter of the crime scene with coffee. "Terry?" Tyler exclaimed, stunned at the sight of the man in front of him. "You? Bringing me coffee? Either the world is ending or my career is about to..."

Terrence O'Halloran, 19 year veteran of the NYPD, handed his partner the drink he had been holding for him. He clamped a leading hand on his junior partner's shoulder as they walked toward central locations of the crime scene. "Kid, the world's not ending yet. As for your career...it probably depends on whether or not you can handle what you see on the other side of those doors."

"Jesus," Tyler stopped in his tracks, breathing out the word in exclamation. "That bad, huh?"

O'Halloran's eyes had a look that Tyler could only describe as...haunted. "Kid...I've seen some bad ones in my time. This one...this one is up there..."

Tyler handed the rest of his coffee to a nearby patrolman. "Can you get rid of this for me, please?" The uniform nodded and left to dispose of the drink. When Tyler noticed his partner's surprised reaction, he grimly commented, "I can't handle bad *anything* on a stomach full of acid."

O'Halloran nodded, understanding the sentiment. "Let's go, kid."

The two men approached the outside of the apartment building, Tyler noticing immediately how many techs were working the nearby alleyway. He frowned as he took in the floodlight-lit scene. "I thought the vic was killed in her apartment?" asked Tyler.

"The first vic was," O'Halloran replied. "Uniforms followed a trail of blood coming from the victim's apartment to find a second victim in the back alley."

Tyler's eyebrows shot up with the news. "So this is a double?"

O'Halloran shrugged. "Looks like it."

Tyler went over to the site of the second victim's demise, surprised to find a blond-haired woman he didn't recognize talking to a pretty but young red-headed intern. He went over to the woman he thought was in charge and shook her hand. "I don't believe we've met before...I'm Detective David Tyler."

"Dr. Megan Andrews," the blond responded, "I'm just covering for a friend who had a family emergency."

"So what do we got here, doc?" asked O'Halloran.

Andrews returned to her spot kneeling down next to the victim. "It looks like this poor guy might just have ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"How'd he die?" asked Tyler, kneeling down next to Andrews.

"Strangled," Andrews replied. "I'm pretty sure he was killed for his clothes."

Tyler blinked, shaking his head slightly in surprise at the doctor's definitive pronouncement. "Really?" he asked, "How do you think?"

Andrews pointed to a tech a few feet away from Tyler who was bagging up a pile of clothes caked with drying blood. "I know people talk a lot about how oblivious New Yorkers can be to the things around them, but I have a feeling even our killer might have thought himself pretty conspicuous in clothes that looked like that."

Tyler let out a low whistle, surprised by just how large the blood stains were on the clothes the CSU techs were bagging. "Did the killer get injured when our victim fought back?"

O'Halloran let out a bitter snort. "I doubt it. C'mon kid, let's head upstairs."

Tyler thanked the medical examiner for her time, then followed his partner, taking care to avoid the techs who were carefully marking evidence along the path he was following. "Is...is all of this *blood*?!" Tyler exclaimed, dumbfounded.

"Yeah," O'Halloran nodded grimly. "Looks like our guy tracked it through the hallway on his way out of the building."

"Looks like," Tyler added, nodding quietly as he watched the amount of blood increase incrementally as they went up the stairs. He stopped just short of the first victim's front door, quietly taking in the scene before him. "My God..." he breathed out quietly.

Doctor Sidney Perlmutter stood up from his position in the doorway to the apartment when he heard the two detectives come up from behind him. "Gentlemen," he announced to the detectives, "I'm afraid I've got some bad news for you."

Tyler's eyes widened. "Worse than this?"

Perlmutter pointed to the victim's wrist. "Do you see the 3 carved into the victim's wrist?"

Tyler nodded. "What about it?"

"12th Precinct Homicide is working a serial case where the killer is carving a message into the wrists of his victims. I'm 90% certain that your victims were killed by the guy they're chasing. And since they're working their case with the Feds..."

O'Halloran knew the drill. "We've got to turn this case over to them..." He let out a quiet string of curses, expressing his frustration at having such a gruesome crime scene burned into his memory and being rendered powerless to do anything about it.

The veteran detective aggressively flipped open his old cell phone, and had two numbers already punched into his phone when he was stopped by his partner. "I'll call them, Terry," Tyler told his partner quietly. "I've worked with them before."

* * *

Javier Esposito was the picture of barely controlled frustration as he met up with Beckett and Castle at the crime scene. Beckett was the first one to notice the younger detective's foul mood. "Something wrong, Esposito?"

"Why are we *here*? 48th and 9th Avenue is Midtown South. Why are we getting called to a crime scene in Hell's Freakin' Kitch..."

"We are here," insisted Agent Shaw, coming up the stairs from behind them, "because Dr. Perlmutter believes our friend Mr. Tyson paid this place a visit."

"So we have another victim?" asked Castle.

Shaw nodded. "Apparently there's something different about this one."

The three detectives dutifully followed behind the agent as she crossed the hallway to the first victim's apartment in the back of the building. When Dr. Perlmutter met them halfway down the hallway with paper booties, the group looked to him in confusion. His response was simple and somber. "Put them on. You'll see why in a minute."

The smell hit Beckett long before any of them got close enough to see what was going on. Castle noticed her discomfort immediately. _What is it?_

_Blood_, she replied, _a lot more than there should be with a strangulation. Something else, too...I just can't quite place it yet..._

It was only a matter of moments before they all got a picture of why they needed to investigate this crime scene. "Jesus..." Esposito exclaimed. "There's only one victim here, Perlmutter?"

The medical examiner nodded. "Cause of death was...no surprise here...severe blood loss. She was stabbed in the jugular, causing a massive arterial spray. Bled out in under two minutes."

"And you think Tyson did this?" asked Esposito. "Why?"

Perlmutter knelt down in the middle of the blood staining the carpet underneath their feet to turn over the victim's left wrist, clearly revealing the deep red marks of a hastily carved 3. Beckett's eyes widened, making the connection immediately. "So she's our fourth victim?" Perlmutter nodded.

Beckett had finally filtered out the smell of the enormous amounts of blood. She was immediately able to determine what the other smell behind it was. _Castle_, she projected through their mind-link, _that other smell...it's sweat...Tyson's sweat, and a lot more than I picked up at the other scenes._ "She fought him...hard. She almost got away, but he caught up to her and stabbed her."

"Why the change?" asked Castle. "Do you think he's switching up his MO?"

Shaw walked slowly around the rest of the apartment, trying to take in as much information as she could process. "I don't think so," she mused out loud, "Tyson's been so neat, organized...this place is anything *but*. That's a hell of a change to his MO, and one that would have driven him crazy."

"Unless something else did," Esposito chimed in. The three Guardians shared knowing glances at each other, not needing a full mind-link to know that they were all thinking of the same 'something'.

Shaw watched the looks passed between the other three members of her current 'team'. "Anyway, we know that this was an exception to Tyson's MO because he strangled the second victim for his clothes."

The Guardians were all startled by Shaw's quick pop of unexpected information.

"*His* clothes?" asked Beckett.

"Second victim?" Castle asked at the same time.

"A homeless man in the alley behind the building," chimed in Tyler. "He was found next to a pile of bloody clothing."

The group turned their attention to the detective that the group had ignored to that point. "Detective Tyler," Castle greeted him, "long time no see. How are things in Mid South?"

"Busy," Tyler replied casually, his voice just barely betraying how much the crime scene was disturbing him. "I'm mostly here to make sure all the information our team collected gets properly handed off. Ms. Jacobsen over there deserves that much."

"So what did you find?" asked Beckett.

Tyler pulled out his notebook. "Isabella Jacobsen, age 26. She was a junior accountant at Bryce, Smith and Watson downtown, some big accounting firm. A neighbor went downstairs to take out her trash around 10 o'clock tonight and found the homeless guy in the alleyway. She then followed the blood trail back up the stairs to Ms. Jacobsen's front door and called 911."

"Doctor Perlmutter, what's your estimate on Ms. Jacobsen's time of death?" asked Beckett.

"Sometime between 6 and 8 pm," replied Perlmutter.

Castle started to walk the crime scene, building his own movie of how he pictured the crime in his head. "She gets home, kicks off her shoes..." He noticed a couple of odd splinters in the doors of the hallway. "Somewhere between the living room and the bedroom, he attacks her, probably strangling her like he usually does...but then something startled him and he loosened his grip just enough for her to try to get away."

Beckett picked up the narrative. "He knew he couldn't let her get away, because any connection she has to him could lead us to him. So he stabs her in the neck to make sure she dies quickly..."

"But he doesn't realize how big a mess her blood was going to make and he gets it all over himself," added Castle. "Then realizing that you can't walk around covered in blood, even in New York City, he strangles the guy downstairs to take his clothes."

"This murder's the odd sock," Shaw concluded. "If we figure out what disturbed Tyson about *this* murder in particular, we can use that information to end this mess once and for all."

Beckett, though, had other ideas. _It seems like we have a pretty good idea of what...or rather, who, disturbed Tyson. The real question is, why hasn't he woken up yet?_

* * *

**_All comments welcome!_**


	14. Chapter 14

Lanie stood in the hospital room doorway, watching her friend and his wife with a gnawing sense of frustration in the pit of her stomach. She hated feeling so helpless. She knew she could keep him in reasonable physical condition, but as to why he wasn't waking up...she was at a loss. And it was driving her crazy.

Jenny looked over to the door, feeling more than seeing the other presence in the room. "Oh," she said, "hey Lanie."

Lanie walked into the room, closing the door behind her, and pulled up a chair on the other side of her friend's bed. "Hey girl," she drawled with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, "how're you holding up?"

"Okay," Jenny replied with a small, weary sigh. "The uncertainty is probably the worst part."

"I can respect that," Lanie agreed. "I wish I had more I could tell you."

A groan from the man in the bed stopped all other conversation in the room. "Kevin?" asked Jenny, unable to keep the relief out of her voice. "Honey?"

Ryan turned toward the gentle voice of his wife. "Hey..." he cooed, smiling. It was then that he realized she wasn't in bed with him, but that she was in a chair and there was a plastic barrier between them. "We're in the hospital?" he asked sleepily.

Jenny wiped a couple of relieved tears from her cheeks with one hand while fiercely squeezing her husband's hand with the other. "Yeah, baby. You didn't wake up this time."

Memories flooded back into Ryan's mind. "I was checking out a lead with Agent Shaw...and that's the last thing I remember before..."

"Kevin?"

Ryan turned to see Lanie standing by the other side of his bed. "Hey, Lane..."

Lanie tried to keep her voice as level and calm as possible. "I'm just going to give you a once-over, make sure everything's ok..."

Ryan's eyes widened as his mind started to connect the dots. "Lanie?" he asked, the worry now clear in his own voice, "Lanie, how long was I out this time?"

Jenny answered her husband's question. "Sweetheart...it was probably close to 15 hours."

"God..." Ryan exclaimed in a whisper. He leaned back and closed his eyes, trying to understand what had happened.

Lanie disengaged from her healing trance quickly, which Ryan found reassuring. "Well, the good news is that physically, you're okay...at least so far."

"But my body's never been the problem," Ryan countered. "And we both know that."

Lanie nodded. "Do you remember what happened when you were in Tyson's head?"

"Not much," Ryan replied, disappointed in his own memory. "All I remember was that I think I was trying to talk Tyson out of killing that woman."

"Want me to call Javi?" asked Lanie. When Ryan nodded, Lanie reached into the connection she shared only with her fiancé. _Baby?_

* * *

One of the benefits of having a federal task force working your case was that you had a lot more people to work on the various monotonous aspects of investigating a murder. However...the sheer number of investigations going on at the same time meant that there was always plenty of busywork to go around.

Which is how Castle, Beckett and Esposito found themselves settled in at Castle and Beckett's adjoining desks, slogging through the financials of both Jerry Tyson and David Terkowich. Esposito was growing restless. "Why are we doing this again?"

Beckett never looked up from the papers she was examining. "We need to figure out how Tyson is picking his victims..."

"But Tyson never seems to go back to the same hunting ground twice," Esposito grumbled, "so I have no idea how this..." The detective's voice trailed off as the voice of his beloved echoed through his mind. _Yeah, chica?_

_Ryan's awake,_ she told him through their mind-link, _he's asking for you to come down and help him remember what happened._

_On my way_, he replied. Esposito passed on the news to his other friends. "Ryan's awake."

Castle's face brightened immediately. "Is he ok?"

Esposito nodded. "He needs me to go to the hospital and help him remember what he saw. Is it ok if I...?"

Beckett nodded. "We'll meet you there as soon as we can get away."

Castle looked around, scanning the area to see if anyone was paying attention to them. Confident that no one was paying attention to them, he waved his hand, causing Esposito to disappear in the blink of an eye.

Beckett was furious. "Castle, are you out of your *mind*?!" she hissed through clenched teeth. "What if somebody saw you do that?!"

"Nobody saw me!" Castle countered in a whisper. "And besides, we all agreed that we need to know what the hell happened in there, right? So I figured the sooner we know, the better."

Beckett scanned the room. No one was staring at them in shock, and no one seemed to be talking about them in any way that felt out of the ordinary. Confident that they had just dodged a bullet, she relaxed...but only a little. "Okay, well, let's figure out an excuse to get out of here so we can go see Ryan at the hospital. And Castle?"

"Yes?"

"Don't *ever* do that again."

* * *

Jordan Shaw tried to melt into the wall of the break room, forcing her breathing to deepen and relax and her heart rate to descend to something approaching normal. _There's no way I saw what I think I just saw, is there?_ She peeked through the doorway, making sure that her targets had no idea what she was doing. Sure enough, Castle and Beckett were far too embroiled in some sort of whispered fight across their desks to be paying any attention to her. And the chair next to Castle's desk, where detective Esposito had been sitting less than a split second earlier, was empty.

It was impossible. Had to be. If Detective Esposito had moved *anywhere*, there was no way he could have left the large open bullpen so quickly without her seeing him. But he was *gone*. His coat was still hanging on the back of his chair, but he was no longer anywhere on the floor. It was as if he had just disappeared into thin air.

But then where did Detective Esposito go? And how did he get there?

* * *

Esposito fell on his behind in the private hospital room, startled at being blinked out of his environment without notice and into a different room where there was no chair waiting for him. His first memory in the hospital room was of his partner, his partner's wife and his fiancée.

Laughing at him.

"Ha, ha." Esposito rolled his eyes, trying to ignore his friends as he rubbed his bruised backside and even more bruised ego. "Very funny. It's not like I *knew* Castle was going to send me here on the express bus."

Lanie crossed the room, helping her fiancé up from his spot on the floor. "Sorry baby," she soothed, trying harder than ever to suppress a giggle even as she rubbed his tailbone to heal him of any physical discomfort. "But it was kind of funny just to see you dumped on the floor like that."

"Yeah, well, not to me," he grumbled as he crossed the room with Lanie to get to his partner's side. His face softened almost immediately at the sight of his friend awake and smiling...even if the smile probably was at his expense. He held out a hand to greet his partner and do the job he had come there to do. "How ya doin', bro?"

Ryan waited for his partner's lightly twitchy eye movements to subside before answering. "Physically, I'm fine...according to Lanie. Otherwise...you tell me, man."

Esposito reviewed his partner's subconscious memory of the brutal crime scene. Once he got to the end of the memory, he cuffed his partner in the back of the head...surprising and annoying the man in the bed. "Don't ever do that again."

Ryan frowned at Esposito in confusion. "Do what?"

"I'll show you," replied Esposito, holding out his hand for his partner to grab onto. Ryan grabbed wrists with his partner, linking into his mind as Esposito replayed the memory.

Jenny watched the exchange between her husband and his partner with a mix of curiosity and concern. "Honey?" she asked her husband. "What happened back there?"

"I was trying to talk Tyson out of killing that woman, like I told you earlier," Ryan replied. "What I didn't remember was that every time I tried to talk to Tyson, it drained a ton of energy. That's...uh...that's why it took so long for me to wake up," he added, embarrassed. "After I got kicked out of Tyson's mind I didn't have enough energy left to get back into my own."

Jenny's eyes widened in shock. "So then why did you do it?"

"If it could give the next woman a chance to get away from Tyson alive?" Ryan countered.

Jenny sighed, knowing what her husband's answer to that question would be. That was exactly why he did what he did...and why he would do it again in a heartbeat. She squeezed her husband's hand, a gesture she hoped would reassure him that she understood.

Esposito's eyes brightened as he came up with an alternative idea. "What if we tried something else?"

Ryan caught the glint in his partner's eye. "What are you thinking?"

"You always seem to jump into Tyson's mind *before* his victim gets home. What if you can send us a message with the address where you are right at the start?"

Ryan caught on to the idea immediately. "Castle can get you guys there in seconds...so hopefully not only can we stop him from killing, but we can actually *catch* him."

Esposito nodded in agreement. "That's what I'm thinking, yeah."

Satisfied that they had a workable plan in place, Ryan swung his legs off to the side of the bed. "In that case," he declared, leveling his question right at Lanie, "how soon can I get the hell out of here?"

* * *

**_The reason this chapter got out so fast? Credit TheTruthBetween, whose complaints that the last chapter didn't have enough action (or Ryan) were, to me, totally valid. This one's for you, Kenzi!_**

**_As always, lots of comments make for a happy writer, and happy writers write faster!_**


	15. Chapter 15

"That's great!" Beckett exclaimed into the phone, finding the first reason she'd had to smile that day. "Thanks for letting me know, Lanie. Bye." The detective then hung up the phone and leaned over to her partner. "That was Lanie. Ryan is fine, physically at least, and Esposito's bringing him back to the precinct now."

Castle started to share his partner's smile. "That's great! Do they know what happened?"

"Apparently Ryan...overextended himself," said Beckett, using a euphemism she knew Castle would pick up on, "and collapsed because of it. So he and Esposito now have a plan."

"So hopefully he won't get so...overextended in the future?"

"Only if we catch Tyson," replied Beckett. Over their mind-link, though, she added, _but if he blacks out again, the goal is for him to find some way to get Tyson's location through to us before the kill happens._

Castle had to force himself to not let the surprise show on his face. _Really?! He can do that?_

_Hopefully we'll never have to find out,_ Beckett replied, handing her partner another pile of financial records.

* * *

Kevin Ryan stood at the entrance to the bullpen, staring at his desk for a minute to collect his thoughts.

Esposito noticed his partner's hesitation. "You ok, bro?"

Ryan nodded. _When Lanie told me how sick you really got from not maintaining the memories in your head,_ he projected in to the mind-link with his partner, _all I could think of was how glad I was that I wasn't you. But now..._

_Kev, even if none of this ever happened to us_, Esposito countered, _there's still that chance that you walk out of your building and get shot, or stabbed, or hit by a bus. Life is short. You do what you can with the time you have, however long or short it is._ Out loud, Esposito then added, "Look, man, if you're not up to this and you need to go home and get some rest..."

Ryan knew his partner was trying to push his buttons. "The only way I'm going to really rest anymore is when we get this guy, man." He fist bumped Esposito to reinforce his own determination to get the job done once and for all. "Let's do this."

* * *

It was there, on the last page of the stack of papers, that Castle noticed it. "Oh my God," he exclaimed, "Hóng lóng Industries..."

"What?" asked Beckett, noticing the excitement in her partner's voice. "Why's Hóng lóng Industries such a big deal?"

"Beckett... Hóng lóng is phonetic Chinese for Red Dragon."

"Really?" exclaimed Beckett, eyes widening. "You think this is an audit of the club's finances?" She pulled the pages out of Castle's hands, looking to verify the information for herself. "The address seems about right."

Castle nodded. "Since they have a legal business name, then if David Terkowich is a partner in the business..."

"We might be able to get an address on him," agreed Beckett, completing the thought. She went over to Esposito's desk. "I need to see everything you can find on a Hóng lóng Industries."

"Hóng lóng Industries?" asked Ryan.

Beckett smiled when she heard the sound of her friend's voice. "We're looking for anything you can find in the business records on a David Terkowich."

"Tyson's current alias?" asked Esposito.

Beckett nodded. "Hóng lóng is Chinese for Red Dragon. We think it might be the club's legal business name."

"On it," Ryan and Esposito replied in unison, turning to jump on their computers immediately.

* * *

An hour later, Esposito approached Beckett's desk at the same time as Agent Shaw. "Where are we on the financials?" asked Shaw.

"We think we've found a legal business name for the Red Dragon," replied Beckett. "We were hoping that there would be a legal address for David Terkowich in the paperwork..."

Esposito shook his head. "Unfortunately, it was a dead end. Terkowich listed a post office box on the incorporation documents..."

"Let me see that," said Shaw, holding out her hands for the copies of the documents Esposito was holding. Esposito handed over the documents, which Shaw studied closely. "I may be able to help you guys with this..."

Shaw led the group into the conference room and up to the Feds' computerized murder board. "Avery, call up the USPS customer database." A screen with an Internet browser came up on the board. "I'm looking for the owner of box number 14702 in the midtown post office on West 34th Street." A PDF scan of a paper document comes up on the screen, which Agent Avery enlarges so that everyone can read the pages on the screen.

"It was rented to David Terkowich, all right," declared Ryan.

"And that is most definitely *not* the address we went to the other day," agreed Beckett.

Esposito's eyes lit up with the anticipation of the hunt. "Then let's go get him."

* * *

As the group started to get ready to leave, Shaw caught up to Ryan. "Detective Ryan," she asked, "how are you feeling?"

"Fine," Ryan replied.

"Did they find out what was wrong?"

Ryan hesitated for a split second before answering, "they said it was vertigo, actually. Between the stress of this case and my wife getting ready to give birth, it just got to be too much for me there. But they gave me a clean bill of health, and I'm ready to go."

Shaw watched Ryan catch up to the rest of the NYPD's members of her squad, trying to process what he had just told her. It was obvious that Ryan had lied to her, but why? His friends were clearly protective enough of him that they wouldn't have let him join them on this raid if he hadn't been cleared to join them.

So what happened to him? And why did he feel the need to lie about it?

* * *

The atmosphere was tense with anticipation. Shaw insisted on bringing a team of four agents with her to help cover the inside hallway while the NYPD team led the raid to capture Tyson. They flanked the apartment's doorway on the west side while Shaw and the Federal team covered the stairway to the east. "Avery? We've got the hallway covered, over."

"All possible exits are covered," Beckett heard Avery reply over Shaw's earpiece. "No way he's getting away this time."

"Copy that," said Shaw. Castle cast shields for his team as Shaw gave the count: "3...2...1...GO!"

The detectives kicked the door in and searched the small apartment, room by room, until they confirmed that every room was clear. "He's not here," Beckett told Agent Shaw. "Place is empty."

"Tear this place apart," Agent Shaw instructed the entire group with a clear edge to her voice, "If Tyson's ever been so much as on this *block* I want to know when and why."

The full team fanned out across the apartment, pulling the place apart for clues. It took less than a minute before Esposito called out, "I found something!"

Beckett, Shaw and the rest of the team immediately congregated in the bedroom. Esposito pushed everyone back to a distance from which everyone could view the evidence, then pulled the armoire open for all to see.

Shaw and Beckett stared intensely at the collage of pictures, printouts and newspaper clippings. "I'd say this is the place," commented Beckett.

"Yep," Shaw agreed. "So now the question is, is he still living here, or did he just leave us a trail of breadcrumbs to taunt us with?" She called over to her team on the earpiece, "Avery? We need to set up a stakeout rotation. If Tyson comes anywhere near this place I want enough people on site to make it impossible to get away."

"Copy that," responded Agent Avery.

"We should pack up everything in this armoire," suggested Beckett. "Take it back to the precinct so we can go over everything piece by piece, connect everything to its corresponding case files."

Shaw nodded briefly, accepting Beckett's suggestion. "Sounds good."

* * *

**_I know, short chapter...I wanted to have a chapter where Ryan wasn't stuck in a blackout or coming out of one. This, of course, means...well you can guess what that means for the next chapter. Anyway, Happy Thanksgiving to everyone in the US! As always, comments, questions and snide remarks all welcome!_**


	16. Chapter 16

The late afternoon sun was starting to set by the time all the evidence from the armoire was organized by case file. Beckett squinted as she closed the blinds in the conference room. "Okay, she announced, "there are photographs and papers from every woman Tyson's killed in New York since he came back..."

"Except for Donna Gallagher," chimed in Castle.

"Which we've pretty much agreed was a crime of opportunity," added Ryan.

"And there's information going about six cases back into the Philadelphia Strangler case," Shaw announced. "More than enough to connect Tyson to the cases in both cities."

Beckett crossed the room to the far end of the conference table to pick up the pile of papers and photographs that they couldn't associate with a case. "Which leaves us with our brunette friend over here..." She flipped through the pile until she got to a stolen piece of mail. "Jessica Dellacameron," Beckett read off the front of the envelope. "Think that's her?"

Ryan called up the DMV database on a laptop he was working with, and spun the machine around to display the record he found. "You tell me."

"So he was stalking her..." Shaw muttered. The agent quickly realized what Detective Beckett was holding in her hands. "She's his next victim!"

Beckett caught on immediately. "So if we can find a way to get to her before Tyson does, maybe get cameras into her apartment, then when he attacks..."

"We've got him," Castle concluded.

"It's possible Tyson doesn't know who I am," Esposito volunteered, "his interactions in New York were mostly with Ryan, Beckett and Castle. I should be the one to go track this woman down."

Shaw nodded. "Good idea. Meanwhile we'll get everything we can on her, see if there's any other spots in her daily routine where Tyson could attack."

Everyone in the room was in agreement with the plan. Esposito cleared out quickly, determined to find their victim-to-be. Beckett and Castle then headed back to their desks...

Which left only Agent Shaw in the conference room as Ryan's eyes rolled back into his head and he lost consciousness. She ran to the door of the conference room. "Call 911!" Shaw exclaimed, "Detective Ryan's collapsed again." She then ran back into the conference room to administer any first aid Ryan might need.

Castle, Beckett and Esposito locked eyes with each other from across the bullpen. They all knew that if Ryan was in the middle of a blackout, it could only mean one thing. Still, they couldn't leave their friend alone, without help...

Beckett started to pick up the phone to dial 911...until a hand stopped her from bringing the receiver to her ear. She looked up into the eyes of Detective Karpowski, whose expression seemed surprisingly...knowing. "We got Ryan," Karpowski insisted. She then added a quick smile and a wink as she suggested, "you guys go do what you gotta do. Take the south stairwell."

Castle's eyes widened as he caught Karpowski's subtext. "How long..."

"Go," Karpowski insisted to Beckett. "We can swap stories some other time."

Beckett nodded in silent agreement, leading Castle and Esposito to the south stairwell...where they disappeared.

* * *

The three Guardians found themselves in a dark, dirty back alley...which is not what Beckett had been expecting. "Castle," she asked, drawing her service weapon, "Where are we?"

"Across the street from Dellacameron's building," Castle replied. "This is Alexis' school. Closest place I knew I could get to with any confidence."

A weak voice came through to the three Guardians' minds. _She's at the front door, guys. Hurry!_

Beckett and Esposito sprinted across the street to the apartment building of their would-be victim. Castle teleported across the street to a safe space near the front door, waving a hand in front of the handle to unlock it. He opened the door for Beckett and Esposito, casting shields for each of his teammates as they went by.

The two detectives resumed their sprint up the stairs...finally stopping when Beckett noticed the open door at the end of the third floor hallway. She motioned for Esposito to flank her, cautiously approaching the doorway while stretching her hearing to scout out what was going on in the open apartment.

Beckett heard the sounds of a single human being. Their heart was racing, their breathing was shallow and labored, as if wheezing through a broken straw...but they were alive. "Clear," Beckett declared in the hallway.

When she and Esposito entered the apartment, Beckett knelt down near the half-collapsed body of Jessica Dellacameron. "Don't try to talk," she told Jessica, who replied with a half-smile and a thumbs up. Beckett then looked up to Esposito. "Her windpipe's partially crushed," she told him. It was only then, when Castle finally caught up to them after taking the building's elevator, that Beckett let the disappointment show in her expression.

"Tyson's gone."

* * *

"I'm sorry."

Beckett took the coffee cup from her partner as they watched the ambulance take Jessica Dellacameron to the hospital. "For what?"

Castle sat down next to his girlfriend on the stoop. "If I had been able to get us a little closer to the apartment then we might've been able to..."

Beckett shook her head. "Actually, I don't think we would have been able to catch Tyson unless we had shown up right in her living room."

"Really?" asked Esposito. "Why's that?"

Beckett took a sip of her coffee before answering. "I think Tyson might have enhanced hearing. No idea if it's as good as mine, but it's definitely much stronger than normal."

Castle nearly inhaled the coffee in his mouth, stunned as he was by Beckett's theory. "What?! How in the world did you get to *that* conclusion?"

"He heard us coming," Beckett replied, "as soon as we started up the stairs would be my best guess. I didn't recognize the sounds as his escape until we got to the apartment."

"How could Jerry Tyson possibly have hearing that good?" asked Agent Shaw.

Castle nearly performed a spit take with the coffee in his mouth, sending most of it up his nose instead. "I'm sorry?" he asked, trying to sound confused.

"Oh, don't pretend you didn't hear me, Mr. Castle, because I know you did," Shaw replied. "I ran a gumball all the way over here as soon as a couple of detectives said that they would take care of Detective Ryan. And in the ten minutes or so it took me to get here you three got here, saved the girl, called the paramedics and sent her off to the hospital. Now, under normal circumstances, there would be no way that you guys would have been any more than a couple of minutes ahead of me. But these aren't normal circumstances, now, are they?"

"Agent Shaw," Castle began, "are you *sure* you got your timing correct, because you're right, of course, we couldn't possibly..."

Shaw silenced Castle with a hand in his face. "Save the excuses, Mr. Castle. Normally, I would have doubted my timeline of events under these circumstances, but when you add to them the fact that I saw Detective Esposito over there disappear into thin air with my own eyes and Detective Ryan lied *to my face* about whatever is causing his little episodes, well then when you combine those facts with the timeline and Detective Beckett's comments about Jerry Tyson, well, you can understand why I'm starting to feel a little out of the loop. Now, is someone here going to tell me the truth, or do I have to haul all of you downtown and charge you with obstructing a Federal investigation?"

Beckett's response to her question was not one that Agent Shaw expected. Instead of trying to come up with some excuse or some counter-argument to pick apart what the fed had seen, Beckett simply smacked her partner violently on the back of his head. "I *told* you you needed to be more careful at the precinct, Castle..."

As Castle rubbed the rapidly growing bump on the back of his head, it was clear that their jig was up. "Agent Shaw, it seems you are entitled to an explanation. Shall we go back to the precinct and talk there?"

Shaw nodded, accepting Castle's question as assurance that she would finally get some answers. She was surprised, though, when Castle stopped her from continuing in the direction of her borrowed cruiser. "Not that way."

The three Guardians and the federal agent disappeared less than a second later.

* * *

**_Yep, another short chapter. Hopefully doing two in a day will make up for doing one for the setup and one for the important stuff. As always, comments, questions and snide remarks all highly encouraged!_**


	17. Chapter 17

_**A/N: This chapter is lovingly dedicated to TheButterflyCurse996, who complained that the previous two chapters were too short. Hopefully this makes up for it. :D**_

* * *

The group reappeared in the south stairwell of the precinct. Agent Shaw considered her surroundings, adding the trip to her growing list of strange incidents looking for an explanation. "So when Detective Esposito disappeared," she mused, "he was teleporting somewhere?" The Guardians around her nodded. "Where were you going?"

"To visit my partner in the hospital," replied Esposito.

"Huh," Shaw exclaimed, mentally filing away the information.

Castle was growing increasingly interested in taking the conversation elsewhere. "Shall we head to the conference room?"

The group filed through the propped-open exit door and started to make their way through the bullpen. It was during this walk through the bullpen that they found the one person they were not expecting to find: Detective Ryan, who was leaning on the break room door frame...weak, but alert and awake. Beckett gently motioned for Ryan to join them in the conference room.

Once the three detectives and the agent filed into the room, Castle closed the door first, then the blinds. He then put his hand against the doorframe, which caused the walls of the room to ripple like waves expanding out from a pebble dropped in a pond. "The room is now soundproofed," Castle announced. "We should be safe to speak freely."

Ryan looked to his friends to alleviate his confusion. "Wait, does she know?"

"Not yet," Esposito replied, "but she's seen enough to demand an explanation and threaten us all with jail if we don't give it to her."

Ryan sighed loudly, massaging his temples. "You know," he exclaimed, clearly annoyed, "we'd probably have saved ourselves a boatload of grief if we had made superhero costumes right at the beginning. A mask is starting to sound very appealing right about now..."

Esposito chuckled in sympathy to his friend's comment as Castle sat down at the table. "So, Agent Shaw," Castle began, "what would you like to know?"

Shaw's first move was to turn to Esposito. "Detective Esposito, how does the whole teleporting thing work? How many people can you take with you?"

When Esposito had to stifle a laugh, Shaw knew that she had gotten her first conclusion very wrong. "Can I assume that I gave the wrong person credit for the power in question?"

Esposito nodded. "When you saw me leave the first time, I wasn't teleporting, I was being teleported. By Castle."

"So all the transportation is Castle's doing?" asked Shaw. When the group around her nodded, the agent added, "and you soundproofed the room just by touching it with your hand..." She started to consider the possibilities of who or what could pull off both feats, and only one word came to mind. "What, are you some sort of wizard or something?"

"I am," replied Castle.

Shaw swallowed hard, forcing herself to suspend her skepticism and focus on the evidence of her recent experiences. "I...see," she said, accepting the idea of Castle's powers at (temporary) face value. Shaw then went to the next question on her mental list. "Detective Beckett, what did you mean when you suggested that Tyson might have enhanced hearing?"

The information implied in Shaw's question stunned Ryan. "He what?!"

"Tyson escaped out of one of the windows of Jessica's apartment when we entered the building," Beckett told them. "The only reason I could see that he would stop a murder and leave in the middle is if he heard us coming."

"From two floors down behind a thick, locked apartment door?" asked Shaw.

"It kind of makes sense," Castle chimed in, "when Tyson was holding me hostage, he got me all tied up and put himself In a perfect position to kill me. As far as he knew, my body wouldn't have been found for at least twelve hours. But then, all of a sudden, he picks up his bag and takes off...leaving me alive. Now as much as he very much wants to make me miserable, it would have made much more sense for him to just kill me then and there. The only reason he would have left me alive and just taken off was that he heard you coming for me. You must have come in to rescue me, what, maybe two minutes later?"

Shaw watched the conversation between Beckett and Castle in almost complete bewilderment. "Detective Beckett, how would you get to the point of even considering the possibility that Tyson could have hearing that sensitive?"

Beckett shifted in her chair uncomfortably. "Let's just say sometimes it takes one to know one."

Shaw's eyes widened almost on reflex, surprised as she was by the idea. "So your hearing is as good as Tyson's?"

"If not better," insisted Castle, irked by the idea of Tyson having anything in common with the woman he loved.

Ryan, for his part, was stuck on the possibility of Tyson having superhearing. "Javi..." he asked quietly, "can you...?"

Esposito put a hand on his partner's shoulder, copying the memory for himself even as the link moved the attack into Ryan's active memory. "You're right, Beckett," Ryan agreed. "Tyson heard you talking across the street and took off out the back window of the apartment."

Shaw's eyes widened at Ryan's firmly confident statement of facts about the attack. "How could you possibly know what happened in that apartment..." she mused quietly. The agent's mind quickly made the connections between the limited pieces of information she had to work with. "You're a *telepath*?!" Ryan nodded.

Forcing herself to suspend her disbelief once again, Shaw took that information at face value, adding it to her list of evidence associated with Ryan. Another piece of evidence rose to the front of her mind, demanding resolution. "Why do you lose consciousness when Tyson attacks?"

"Since Tyson's come back to New York," Ryan explained, "I get sucked into his mind whenever he's getting ready to kill. I hear his thoughts and witness the murder from his perspective."

"So what did you need Detective Esposito's help with?" asked Shaw.

Ryan pushed himself forward in his chair, still fighting to regain his strength. "When I come out of these blackouts, I don't remember the attacks in enough detail to be of any help. I even assumed the first two blackouts were simply nightmares," he admitted quietly.

"My...gift, ability, whatever you'd want to call it," Esposito chimed in, "is that I can read and recall people's memories as if I'd lived them."

Shaw picked up on the connection between the two abilities immediately. "You can pull from people's subconscious as well, then?"

Esposito nodded. "When I need to. Because Ryan only remembers the attacks as nightmares, I pull them out of his subconscious..."

"And then Ryan reads your mind as you relive his memory of the attack?" asked Shaw. Ryan and Esposito nodded in agreement.

Shaw considered all of the new information she had just been given...and it wasn't long before she realized the opportunity they had just presented her with. "So you guys are telling me that inside your two heads, you guys both have detailed first-hand witness accounts of *every* time Tyson's killed since he arrived back in New York?" When Ryan and Esposito both nodded in agreement, Agent Shaw practically ran into the Feds' conference room, returning a second later with a yellow note pad and a pen. She practically exuded excitement as she sat back down, catching her breath.

"Okay, gentlemen...start at the beginning."

* * *

The bullpen was empty and the evening shift was well underway by the time Shaw finished questioning Ryan and Esposito. Shaw looked through her now full yellow pad of notes, pushing herself to try to find any similarities between the five cases; any thread between the four times Jerry Tyson had been able to take a woman's life and the one time he didn't succeed.

Only one thing kept coming up time and time again.

"Detective Ryan," said Shaw, "it seems like you get pulled into Tyson's head when he has a massive rush of adrenaline in anticipation of the kill...and when that wears off, unless you've done something to interfere with the process, you wake up."

Ryan thought over his memories of the attacks. "I hadn't really thought about it all that carefully," he commented, "but I think you're right..."

"So I have a question," said Shaw. "Can this connection between the two of you go the other way?"

Castle leaned back from the table in stunned amazement. "I can't believe I didn't think of this before..." When Shaw looked at him with an expression of curious confusion, Castle explained, "My daughter has helped us research and test our abilities pretty much from day one...anyway, Ryan, she once told me that you once told her that making a long-distance connection to someone was like dialing a phone number you've memorized."

Esposito caught on to Castle's point immediately. "Bro...focus on the little details of how it felt in the time between when you fainted and when you recognized you were in Tyson's head. If you can trace your way through that process..."

Ryan finally understood. "I might be able to use it to double-back and make a live connection with him. I'm really gonna need your help with this, man."

Esposito readily volunteered, putting his hand on Ryan's shoulder to collect his friend's memories and feed them back to him. Ryan walked his way through his memories of the five attacks and what he could remember of the transition between his mind and Tyson's. Ryan then removed his partner's hand from his shoulder when he was ready to make the attempt.

Closing his eyes, Ryan sat up and stretched his mind in an effort to connect with Tyson's. He found the connection easier to make than he had ever dreamed. Breathless from the effort and surprise, his eyes glazed over as he declared, "I'm in."

Ryan stood up, walking through what he saw Jerry Tyson doing; stopped only by the obstacles in the room. Shaw spoke up first. "Ryan, tell us what you're seeing. Do you know where you are?"

"It...looks familiar..." Ryan replied half-heatedly. But then, the detective's eyes suddenly flew open as he flew back into his body in an adrenaline-rushed panic attack. "Castle," Ryan exclaimed between shallow gulps of air, "he's at the loft. I think Tyson's going after your mother."

The people in the conference room disappeared in the blink of an eye.

* * *

The group appeared in the entryway to the loft, all but one scanning the area to see where Jerry Tyson could possibly have hidden himself.

The one exception, though, knew exactly where he was going. Ryan followed the pull of his telepathic connection until he saw in the third person what he had seen earlier in the first: Jerry Tyson, breathless and giddy with anticipation, holding up a barely conscious Martha Rodgers. "NO!" Ryan screamed, "TYSON! DROP HER, YOU SON OF A..."

Tyson robotically did as he was told...against his will. Ryan held Tyson's hands behind him using only his mind, and he was soon lifting the man two feet off the ground, keeping him fully immobilized.

"Wh-wh-wh-what...what kind of insane trick is this? How could you possibly...?"

"Shhh..." Ryan spat out in response, forcing Tyson's mouth closed in a metaphysical gag. "I know how much you love to talk, Tyson. But not this time. Now, it's *my* turn. Let's see how *you* like it."

Castle spared only the briefest thought to Jerry Tyson's plight before focusing all of his attention on checking his mother's vital signs.

Lanie appeared in the living room in the blink of an eye...falling from the seated position she had been in just a moment earlier. All thoughts of protesting ceased, though, when she saw Ryan holding a man in a telekinetic choke hold near the bookcases separating Castle's study from the living room. _That's Tyson_, Esposito's voice echoed loudly in her mind. _He attacked Martha in the study. She needs you. Go!_ Lanie ran behind the bookshelves to take care of her emergency patient.

Ryan held Tyson above the living room sofa; the three remaining cops with guns all pointed at the immobilized man. Ryan ignored them; his focus was totally and completely on one man. "What am I going to do with you, *Jerry*, hmmm? You've caused a lot of people an awful lot of pain, *Jerry*. Maybe you should experience a little of that pain, huh, *Jerry*?" Tyson let out a choked-off scream as Ryan slowly tightened his invisible grip on the man's wrists.

Shaw was quickly realizing that her gun was not trained on the right threat. She re-focused her weapon and all of her attention on Ryan. "Detective..." she ordered Ryan as calmly as she could under the supernatural circumstances. "Let him go."

Ryan ignored her; he had other things on his mind. "How does that feel, Jerry? To be in so much pain and be totally unable to do anything about it? You want to scream, don't you..." Ryan tightened his grip on Tyson's mouth, dislocating his jaw with a crack that stunned Beckett and forced her to re-examine the scene for herself.

Beckett quickly came to the same conclusion Shaw had reached a moment earlier. "Ryan..." she demanded with a warning tone to her voice. "Put Tyson down *now*."

Ryan ignored her as well. "How does that feel, Tyson?" he asked coldly. "Hurts, doesn't it? Well, *guess what*?" Ryan spat out with a growl, "I'm just getting started..."

Tyson's arms and limbs flew out from their immobilized position to stretch as far as his body would allow them to be stretched. Ryan pulled on each limb in unison, eliciting a strangled cry from the helpless man, whose eyes were frozen in terror as tears started to roll down his cheeks.

Esposito stepped back, horrified by what he was seeing. "Bro..." he warned Ryan, "Tyson's had enough. Put him down!"

Tyson's limbs were stretched another fraction of an inch, eliciting another strangled scream from the man. "Can't get through to him," Beckett told Esposito. "We already tried."

Esposito knew that it was now his partner's life that hung in the balance if they couldn't come up with some way to stop him. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Castle watching the standoff. It reminded him of the only other...being who had ever been able to hold his mind under their sway. "Castle!" Esposito called out over another scream from Tyson, "Get Katya here *now*!"

Katya instantly appeared beside the wizard, hissing over the fact that she had apparently been pulled away from...dinner. She started to attack the being next to her before she ever realized who it was. "Oh!" she exclaimed, backing away quickly, "forgive me, honored one..."

"No time," Castle cut her off, never taking his eyes off of the standoff. "Can you get through to Ryan?"

"Ryan?" asked Katya, blinking back her bewilderment. It was only then that she noticed that no one was looking at her. She followed Castle's line of sight until she saw what had everyone so transfixed.

The sight horrified her. Jerry Tyson's aura was a pitch black entity of pure evil, consuming the man so totally that Katya could only barely make out the edges of his human form through the black-on-black silhouette. The air around the entity crackled and hissed as black tendrils waved uncontrollably around the room, desperate to connect with any being they could find.

And Kevin? Her beloved Mùshī had a pipeline firmly connecting the dark mist to his aura. A roaring battle between light and dark was swirling around the man...and it appeared, to Katya, that the light was losing. "I need help here," Katya told the group, "I cannot do this alone."

"How can we help?" asked Beckett. "He won't listen to any of us."

Katya turned to Beckett, confused. _I forget how young they are sometimes,_ she thought. "Do *you* not see it, honored Lièrén?"

Beckett frowned in confusion for a moment before she realized what the subtext of Katya's question had been. Switching her vision to look for the magic energy around them, Beckett gasped as she saw the real battle beyond what she thought the situation had been. "My God..." she breathed out in a whisper. She fed the images in her vision through the link between her and Castle. "Castle, how the hell do we fight *that*?!"

Castle, seeing through the eyes of his beloved, shushed her, needing to concentrate on finding just the right words..."Just...just keep letting me see what you see," he told her. Beckett nodded. Never having been one for poetry, Castle went with the first thing he could think of, praying that his vision of what he wanted to see happen was clear enough to carry him through. "PARASITE!" he shouted with the energy of his ability, "BE GONE FROM MY SIGHT!"

The black mist instantly disappeared from the air in the room. The pipeline, however, still existed; having no more energy in the room to pull from, it fed off Tyson's suffering and Ryan's rage, slowly draining the life energy of the killer to feed the life force of the one now killing him.

"It is all right," Katya told the confused and frustrated wizard, "their connection was not created by the evil you just banished. It is its own construct, fueled by both sides. I believe your expression goes...I got this?"

Castle stepped aside to let Katya focus. She reached out immediately to connect to the mind of her old friend. _Kevin?_

_Katya? _The clear, unexpected voice in his mind startled Ryan out of his solitary focus. _What are you doing here?_

_The Sìfāng sent for me, old friend. He was worried about you._

_Worried? _Ryan responded with a wicked grin and a slow twisting of the telekinetic bindings around Tyson's ankles, causing the man to whimper in pain. _He shouldn't be. I've got everything under control._

_That is what your friends are worried about, _Katya countered. _Kevin...is this the evil man you have been hunting? _Ryan nodded. _Now that you have him, do you not think you should turn him over to face justice?_

_Justice is too good a punishment for this man, _Ryan insisted. _He's done far too much..._

A barrage of images flashed through Katya's mind. She soon made the connection that these were the images of the women that Tyson had murdered. _I have also killed that many in my lifetime, Kevin, _Katya reminded him, _if not more..._

_That was *different*, _Ryan countered, cutting off her argument, _you were just doing what you had to do to survive..._

_And is that what you are doing now, Kevin? _asked Katya. _I know that you know that it is not._

Ryan stretched Tyson's legs out an inch further. _Killing this beast would be doing the world a favor. I've done it before..._

A memory of Ryan's flowed through Katya's mind...one of tearing an old witch apart on a mental battlefield. _That was different, Kevin, _Katya insisted. _You were doing what you needed to do to survive and save the life of that young woman. Would killing this man save a life? Or would it only satisfy your twisted need for revenge?_

Tyson's limp body lowered an inch closer to the ground. Katya took it as a sign that her argument was getting through. _Kevin,_ she continued, _what you are planning to do...it is something that changes you. It leaves a mark on your soul. One that can never be healed...and one that always leaves you vulnerable to the possibility of being consumed by it. Kevin, you are not this man. You are not someone who kills for pleasure or revenge._

_You...you don't understand, _insisted Ryan, _this man...who he is__...what's he's done..._

_I agree that he needs to face justice and pay for the crimes he has committed,_ Katya projected, _but this is not that justice. Your friends can subdue him. But you *need* to let him go._

Ryan looked at Katya, then at the man he was holding hostage. Bruises were starting to form around Tyson's neck, wrists and ankles, and his jaw was hanging limply at an unnatural angle. The cop's lower lip trembled just slightly. _*I* did that to him?_

_You did, _Katya replied. _You need to let him go now._

Weakly, Ryan nodded, letting Tyson fall to the floor. Katya watched as the link between the two me snapped and disappeared, sending the remaining evil out into the atmosphere.

It was only then that Ryan noticed he barely had the strength to stand upright. Katya propped up her old friend, draping his arm around her shoulder. "You have lost your connection to the energy that drives your abilities," she explained. She called over the one Guardian she knew who could help. "Lièrén!"

Beckett supported Ryan on his other side while talking to Katya. "What can I do?"

"Take Kevin into a room where the two of you can have some privacy. I believe the old Guardians can help him."

Beckett's eyes went wide. "Do you know how to contact them?"

"You do not?" asked Katya, confused. When Beckett shook her head, Katya could only smile patiently at her friend's youth and inexperience.

"Do not worry, Lièrén. I am sure you will figure it out."

* * *

**_So what do you think? Would you prefer longer chapters or shorter chapters? What did you think of *this* chapter? Comments, questions and snide remarks all welcome!_**


	18. Chapter 18

_**A/N: Another one for TheButterflyCurse996. Yes, that means it's really long. You don't like the length, complain to her. :-D**_

* * *

Ryan and Beckett sat down cross-legged on the floor of the guest room, staring at each other. The silence left them fidgeting where they sat, not knowing what to say. Ryan was the one to breech the silence between them. "Beckett?"

"Yeah?"

"You don't know how to contact the..."

Beckett shook her head. "I haven't ever even *tried* to contact someone on the other side. When I've talked to spirits it was because they called me first." She closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly to aid her focus. Beckett decided to start with the only idea she had. _Hello? Are you there? Hello?_

_Nice_, Ryan replied sarcastically over their shaky mind-link. _Maybe we'd have better luck if you yelled out the win..._

Their surroundings changed so quickly Ryan had to pinch himself to be sure he wasn't dreaming. From the evidence of his eyes, it was obvious that they were no longer in the guest room, but where were they?

Beckett and Ryan both stood up and moved around in a circle, examining and evaluating their surroundings as they went. Open air...stone floor and ceiling...sparse surroundings...red colored pine...

The two Guardians came up with the same conclusion at the same time, and declared it in unison..."The old temple..."

"Very good, young ones." Ryan and Beckett turned in the direction of the new voice. They turned to find a bald-headed man in the orange robes of a Buddhist monk watching them with what could only be described as a teacher's pride. "While the wording of your meditation was a bit...unconventional, I am pleased to see that you achieved your desired result, young Lièrén."

"Who are you?" Ryan asked bluntly.

"My birth name is Lobsang Kunchen," the man replied. "But what you most need to know, young one, is that we share the same gift." Ryan felt the other man reach into every corner of his mind, his face falling as he considered what he had discovered. "The others are waiting to meet with you," Lobsang told them. "If you will follow me, please."

Beckett and Ryan both nodded, following the monk in silence as he led them to a set of giant double doors, each one ornately carved with what looked, during their all too brief examination, to be the history of their predecessors. Lobsang pushed the doors open with his mind and led them into the room.

Beckett had to stop herself from gawking and force herself to walk with eyes forward through the large, open-air room. Even facing forward, it was hard not to stare in wonder at the large statue of a laughing Buddha in front of them. "This place is amazing..." she exclaimed.

Ryan wasn't paying attention. For him, the walk felt far too much like the one and only time he had ever been called to the Mother Superior's office in elementary school. Idly, he started to wonder if they were there to have his powers taken away from him. The idea of having his mind to himself again...he didn't know what to think about that.

The group stopped in front of the Buddha, where the other four Guardians sat quietly in what Beckett could have sworn was a cross-legged 'Indian-style' position. "You seem surprised by something, young Lièrén," Lobsang commented.

Having Lobsang speak to her shook Beckett out of her musings. "Oh!" she exclaimed, "Sorry, I..."

"You were surprised that we weren't sitting in a position similar to the honored Buddha..." Lobsang finished her comment. "Jamyang refuses to bend his legs into that position anymore, so we all changed, how do you say, to be supportive..."

That led to a round of good-natured teasing from all of the monks, save one...who Beckett assumed to be Jamyang. As the teasing settled down, Lobsang sat down alongside his brothers. "So...besides the obvious," Lobsang began the official discussion, "how may we be of assistance to the Guardians?"

Beckett and Ryan looked to each other, then returned their attention to the monks, clearly confused. "I'm sorry," said Beckett, "I'm probably missing something here. Obvious?"

"Kevin," Lobsang replied to Beckett's question. "The chi of your Mùshī has a severe blockage. Possibly the worst I have ever seen. You are here to have that block removed, yes?"

Ryan's mood brightened almost immediately. "You can *do* that?"

Lobsang rolled his eyes. He called one of the other monks to stand up with him and approach Ryan and Beckett. "I told Ngawang that passing the blessing on to the untrained was asking for trouble," Lobsang grumbled, "but he was so sure that you could handle it..." The two monks stood directly in front of Ryan, each putting a hand on one of Ryan's shoulders.

Beckett watched, fascinated, as Ryan's aura grew bigger, brighter and more active throughout the course of the two monks' treatment. When the two men removed their hands, Ryan's aura was even stronger than Beckett had first remembered seeing it. "How are you feeling, Ryan?"

"Better," Ryan replied, smiling. "Best I've felt in weeks, actually."

"What caused the blockage?" asked Beckett.

"Evil," answered Lobsang. "The evil that men do. You face more of that evil in a week than we did in a decade. Every time you face that evil it can darken your aura, young Mùshī. And your guilt does nothing to help the situation, either."

Ryan blushed, knowing that the other telepath had a point. "And if this block gets big enough..."

"You lose your abilities and become more susceptible to the influence of that evil," said Lobsang.

"So how can I keep it from happening again?" asked Ryan.

"The Yīzhì has the ability to help you clear out your aura," Lobsang replied. "Go to her after a...bad case, I believe you would call it."

Beckett kept thinking about Lobsang's earlier complaints. "There is a lot about our...abilities that we do not know," she told the entire group. "When we need advice, is there...is there an easier way for me to get back here? Or to communicate with all of you?"

Lobsang projected the procedure into Beckett's mind. "That is how Wangchuk always called on our ancestors. It is a ritual that should serve your purposes. All you need to change is your intended target. You should also have all the knowledge you need to return to your present when you walk out that door."

Beckett nodded her acceptance of the new information. "Thank you so much for your help with this."

"You are welcome," said Lobsang. "You are *always* welcome."

Ryan and Beckett turned and took two steps on their way to head out of the temple when they were stopped by Lobsang. "Lièrén, a moment before you leave, please." Beckett stopped at the point where the monk had caught up to her. "There is something else...a greater evil that was at work among you. Recently."

_The black fog,_ Beckett thought.

Lobsang nodded immediately. "That 'fog', as you called it...I believe it is an enemy that has not been seen since the first of our line was given the Blessing. According to our legends, that enemy was the *reason* they were so blessed. And the spell your Sìfāng cast only moved it temporarily. It did not defeat it. I assure you, now that it knows who you are, it *will* come back. Please do not try to face it alone. And please...be careful."

Beckett nodded, respecting the worry that was radiating off the monk in waves. "I will. Thank you again for your help."

Lobsang nodded once in gratitude, then turned to return to his brothers as Beckett turned to take Ryan and return to their home.

* * *

"So what's she *doing*?" asked Agent Shaw.

Castle watched Shaw watch Lanie, completely fascinated by the smooth motions of her healing trance. "Healing Tyson's physical injuries. Ryan must have really done a number on him, though, if it's taking her this long..."

Shaw's eyes flew wide. "You mean she's one of *you*?!"

Castle nodded. "We're the current incarnation of an ancient group called the Guardians of Shangri La. That's who Beckett and Ryan are trying to contact..."

"We succeeded," Beckett informed the group, as she stood in the guest room doorway.

With the exception of Lanie, the attention of the rest of the group flew to the guest room. "Where's Ryan?" asked Esposito. "Is he okay?"

Beckett broke into a smile that stretched from ear to ear. "You tell me." She then stepped aside to let Ryan go in ahead of her.

As the two Guardians descended down the stairs, it seemed like the smile on Beckett's face had become contagious. "Bro," Esposito told his partner, smiling as he slung an arm around him, "you look *fantastic*!"

"Yeah," Castle agreed, "like you just came back from vacation or something. What happened in there?"

Beckett and Ryan shared a knowing smile, as Ryan told them, "Training. Apparently there was some maintenance Lanie's supposed to help me with...speaking of Lanie, where is she?"

"Over here," Lanie said as she came out of the healing trance. "He's done."

As if on cue, Tyson woke up and started screaming. "HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME!"

Shaw rolled her eyes as the group sighed. "So do we draw straws or what?" asked Esposito.

"I'll take him down to the 12th and get him into holding," Shaw volunteered. As she watched the interactions between the people around her, she added, "I'm guessing you guys have some things to wrap up here."

"I guess I'll go with you," Esposito volunteered with a reluctant, loud sigh.

Tyson's eyes darted around wildly, finally settling on Ryan. "What?! You're not arresting that guy?! He almost killed me!"

"Really, Mr. Tyson?" Shaw asked, sharing a knowing glance with the rest of the group around her. "What evidence do you have that you were injured by any of these people in any way?" Knowing Tyson wouldn't have any valid response to that question, Shaw got down to business. "Jerry Tyson, you are under arrest for the murders of Donna Gallagher, Madeline Strimp and a whole lot of other women. You have the right to remain silent..."

Castle and Ryan couldn't wipe the smiles off their faces as the man who had been their own personal nightmare was led away in handcuffs. As Castle closed the door behind Shaw and Esposito, Martha turned her attentions to her rescuer. "Kevin, I cannot thank you enough for saving me from that madman..." she exclaimed as she enveloped the man in the biggest hug she could give him.

Ryan blushed modestly, joking, "Just doing my job, ma'am..." It was then that Ryan realized who wasn't in the room. "Wait, where's Katya? I wanted to thank her for talking me out of..."

No one wanted Ryan to finish that sentence, so Castle calmly reminded him, "It's almost 5am, Ryan. She needed to get home."

Ryan's eyed widened as he realized how long they had been out. "In that case, I need to get home to *my* wife as well. Castle...would you mind?"

Castle sent Ryan home instantly. "I should go too...I'm in a mood for an early breakfast before bed," said Lanie with a smile. "Good night, you guys."

Castle and Beckett said their good nights to Lanie in the more conventional way. As Beckett closed the door slowly behind her, Martha said her own goodnights, leaving the couple alone. They wrapped their arms around each other, leaning on each other for strength. "I cannot tell you how glad I am that that's finally over. I'm exhausted," Castle sighed.

"Me too," Beckett agreed. "Let's go to bed..." When Castle's smile turned positively lecherous, it amused Beckett to no end. "Apparently, you're not *that* tired..."

* * *

Jerry Tyson woke up in 'The Tombs' to the overwhelming smell of blood. His neck felt wet. He reached up to touch the spot...

The blood that he was smelling, he quickly realized, was his own.

The seeds of fear were starting to take root in the pit of his stomach; it was a sensation he hadn't felt in a long time and one he did not enjoy in the slightest. His hands starting to shake, he slowly pushed himself up to a standing position, disturbed by the amount of blood he saw slowly staining the thin mattress he had been lying down on. With every step a struggle, he shuffled to the sink and looked in the mirror.

Two dark holes at the base of his neck, near his collarbone. While the holes looked dried-out and crusted-over, there was blood all over his left side, his neck...and his lips. Fear was starting to grow from the depths of his gut, stretching through every part of his soul...when the first wave of convulsions hit. It felt like he was being torn apart from the inside out.

He caught a reflection of his face in the old mirror, and saw an expression he knew very well. It was the look of pure terror that he craved seeing from his victims. But now he was wearing that look. And feeling that fear.

A deep, heavily accented voice rumbled behind him, "We are never more alive than when fear is coursing through our veins, yes?"

Tyson wheeled around to see a tall, well-dressed Russian man standing behind him, covered in *his* blood. He re-examined the reflection in the mirror, then compared it to the location of the Russian.

_No reflection._

_Two puncture marks on my neck._

_Oh God..._

Another wave of convulsions ripped through him, and Tyson collapsed, clutching at the sink to try to keep himself upright. He screamed, "HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME! I'M BEING ATTACKED! HELP!"

It was only then that Tyson noticed there were two uniformed officers in the holding area, standing guard. Silently. Neither man acknowledged his presence...or his screams. Tyson turned to the Russian, who he could only assume was the source of his current nightmare. "Who are you?"

"My name is Sergei Andreyevich Kruschev."

"You...you're a vampire?"

"Da."

"Wh-wha...what did you do to me?"

Sergei licked his lips, which sent another bolt of panic through Tyson's being. "I fed off of you." He then revealed his right wrist to show a rapidly healing gash. "I then gave you a bit of my blood. When you drank, it marked you as mine."

Another wave of convulsions doubled Tyson over in excruciating pain. Terror rang through his voice. "Oh God...am I dead?"

"No," replied Sergei. "But you are not long for this world." He stood up, crossing silently through the open door of the holding cell to kneel beside the suffering man. "Now, normally I would offer to take away your pain in exchange for your service. But you hurt the friends of someone I care about very deeply. So as a payment to her, I'm going to leave you here to suffer just a tiny fraction of the pain you have caused over the course of your life. And then you'll die. And this time, there will be no coming back."

Tyson screamed as yet another wave of agonizing convulsions hit him full force. It was several minutes before he regained enough of his faculties to speak, and even then his words came out only as he groaned. "How long are you going to leave me like this?"

"Oh I doubt you'll last more than a day or two," Sergei responded casually. "From what I understand, that could almost be considered a kindness..."

Tyson was starting to realize that he was in the process of begging for his life. With a vampire. "And when this pain is over," he spat out through clenched teeth, "will I become like you?"

"I *had* considered the idea...briefly," admitted Sergei. "Professional courtesy and all that. Alas, my old friend was very specific when it came to the terms of our arrangement...and those terms do not allow you that option."

"But...but you considered it?" asked Tyson, hope creeping into his voice.

"Of course," Sergei replied. "You have quite the...flair for causing the death of humans. How can I not respect that? However, you also have a terrible knack for making enemies of exactly the *wrong* beings." As Sergei slipped out of the central holding cell and past the entranced guards, he turned around from the other side of the bars to end their conversation. "And that, Mr. Tyson, is why you are going to die."

The sound of Jerry Tyson's screams echoed musically in the ancient's ears as he made his way to the parking garage, unnoticed saved for the old friend he met there. "It is done as you asked," he told his younger 'sister', greeting her in their long-standing tradition of clasping each other's right wrists.

"Then your debt to me is paid." Katya acknowledged Sergei with a nod, her expression growing from deadly seriousness into a fang-bearing grin. "Until we meet again, old friend..."

"As long as it is not around the poker table," Sergei grumbled as he walked away from his fellow ancient. "That is the *last* time I re-raise you at the turn..."

* * *

Jenny leaned back against the comfortable pillows in the birthing suite. With the admission paperwork done, the mother-to-be was finally feeling like she could rest a little and settle herself in for the long haul. "Rick," she smiled at the wizard gratefully, "thank you so much for this..."

"Only the best for my future niece," Castle said with a smile. "You're sure you don't want us to stay?"

Jenny brushed off the gesture. "Nah, this is a first baby. We could be here 12, 18, maybe even 24 hours. No reason for you to be bored with the rest of us. Go home to your girlfriend. Kevin'll call you when it gets closer to the big moment."

"As long as you're sure," said Castle.

"She's sure, Castle. Smart move, in my opinion. You are all kinds of hell to be around when you're bored."

Castle looked up to see Lanie standing with the expectant father at the entrance to the suite. "Ah," he commented, "essential personnel only, I take it?"

"That's the plan," replied Ryan. "But I promise, you'll be one of the first people I call, okay?"

"Deal," Castle replied with a smile. He gave Ryan a brotherly bear hug before vanishing from the room completely.

Ryan and Lanie instantly turned their attention to the mother-to-be. "How are you doing, sweetheart?" asked Ryan, gently kissing Jenny's forehead before settling down into a nearby chair.

"Mmmm..." Jenny purred, "*much* better now that you're here." She rested against the pillows and let her husband's peace and energy wash over her, giving her a much-needed second wind. "You realize you're no longer allowed to leave my side for the rest of the night, right?"

Ryan chuckled, getting up to kiss the top of his wife's forehead. "I promise, honey. I won't move unless you tell me to. Okay?"

"Good." Jenny then flipped her attention to the other Guardian in the room. "Now, before the professionals get in here and mess it all up, how am I doin'?"

"Let's check," replied Lanie. She placed her hand over Jenny's, entering the trance just as a contraction hit. Jenny doubled over as the pain ripped through her system, and she grabbed onto her husband's hand, pulling on his emotional strength as Lanie worked to tweak her nerve endings to relieve the pain.

When the contraction subsided, Jenny smiled at the people who had helped her sail through it so smoothly. "I know women have been doing this by themselves since the dawn of time," she exclaimed, "but I'm really, *really* glad I don't have to."

Ryan and Lanie smiled at each other before the trio heard an imposing woman with a thick Irish accent ask very loudly, "Can someone *please* just tell me where my daughter is?!"

"Hate to tell you, Lanie," said Ryan, "but I think helping to deliver this baby may just be the easy part."

An older woman and a younger-looking redhead pushed their way into the suite without acknowledging Ryan or Lanie at all. "Jenny! My sweet, sweet baby! How are you feeling?"

Ryan took up the mantle of polite behavior that the older woman had ignored. "Lanie, I'd like you to meet Eireen O'Malley, my mother-in-law, and my sister-in-law Kathleen."

Eireen glared at Ryan with only barely restrained politeness. "Kevin," she greeted her son-in-law icily, "thank you for helping my daughter to this point, but having babies is women's work, and now that mama O'Malley is here, I can take over..."

Jenny cut her mother off immediately. "Mother, I want Kevin with me. Through the whole thing."

Eireen sighed, addressing her daughter with a mother's patience. "Sweetheart, I know you kids nowadays believe that couples should do everything together, but there has never been an O'Malley child born with the father in the room..."

"And mother, no offense, but I don't give a damn about that particular family tradition," Jenny insisted. "Kevin stays. Lanie too."

Eireen's face drained of color, speechless and horrified, as Kathleen finally noticed the other woman in the room. Kathleen reached across her sister's bed to shake Lanie's hand, introducing herself. "Kathleen O'Malley."

"Dr. Lanie Parrish," said Lanie, returning the introduction and the handshake. "Nice to meet you."

"Are you a midwife?" asked Kathleen.

Lanie glanced at Jenny before answering her sister's question with a small chuckle. "Of a sort..."

Eireen finally found her voice to speak again. "Jennifer Scout Duffy O'Malley-Ryan," she began, her lower lip quivering in frustration and eyes wet with tears that were just barely starting to fall, "I am willing to forgive your outburst as coming from the pain of giving birth..."

"Mother," Jenny insisted, "I can assure you that that had absolutely *nothing* to do with it..."

The women's conversation stopped as Jenny experienced another contraction. Lanie and Ryan went to work almost immediately, which allowed Jenny to surf through the contraction with very little pain and not much more effort. Eireen watched the whole process with confused, but fascinated interest. "Jennifer," Eireen asked quietly, "did you have a contraction just now?"

Jenny nodded. "Yes, mother, that was a contraction."

"But...but you acted like you weren't in any pain? They haven't given you that...that shot yet, have they?"

Jenny fixed her gaze intently on her mother, desperate to make her understand. "That's because I wasn't in pain, mother. And no, they haven't given me an epidural yet." As Jenny looked around with admiration at her delivery 'team', she added, "I doubt I'm going to need one."

Eireen was dumbfounded. "How is that possible?"

_Honey_, Jenny suggested to her husband through their mind-link, _I think it's time we told her everything, don't you?_

Ryan studied his wife's face carefully. _Are you sure?_

_Immediate family gets a pass, right? _Jenny replied. _Besides, would you rather do it now, or when one of our children starts reading grandma's mind?_

_I think you've made your point,_ Ryan agreed with a smirk.

Jenny smiled back at her husband for the briefest of moments before turning to her mother. "Mother, Kevin and Lanie are the reason I didn't feel any pain during that contraction. That's why I *need* them to stay with me right now."

Eireen stared at her daughter in confusion. "How on Earth could they be taking your pain away..."

_Mother O'Malley_, Ryan projected into the mind of his mother in-law, _this would be how._

Kathleen watched the silence in the room, confused. "Well?" she asked. "Answer her question!"

Eireen's eyes darted between her daughter and son-in-law in shock as Jenny replied to her sister's question. "He did, Kathleen...at least, I *think* so." She looked up to get confirmation from her husband, who nodded.

Kathleen turned to her very shaken mother. "He answered your question, mother?"

Eireen nodded weakly. "Saints preserve us..." she whispered, making the sign of the cross before collapsing into a nearby chair.

Kathleen was starting to feel left out of the loop. "Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on here?!"

Jenny decided that since this was her family, it was her turn to tell the story. "It started about seven months ago..."

* * *

"It feels like we just left," Castle grumbled as he speed-walked through the hospital corridors in a futile attempt to keep up with his girlfriend.

Beckett stopped for the third time to let her boyfriend catch up. "Well from what Lanie told me, removing pain and stress from the equation speeds up the process considerably..."

"But five hours?" Castle countered, "Beckett, that's got to be a record."

"Not hardly, dad," Alexis informed her father. "I've heard of some women who were in labor for less than an hour."

Castle's eyes widened at the thought as he opened the door to the birthing suite. "An hour? That's barely enough time to get to the hosp..."

All conversation ceased as the group entered the room and took in the scene in front of them. Jenny and her husband were glowing, staring down at their little girl with a love that can only be seen when a new parent looks at their child. Esposito was camped out on a sofa, his arms wrapped around his tired fiancé, who seemed to be napping. The group crept into the room, not wanting to break the magic of the moment.

Ryan was the first to notice the entrance of his friends, and he got up to embrace each one of them in turn. "You guys want to meet the baby?" he offered.

The trio crowded around the bed to meet Ryan's daughter. "Jenny," Beckett cooed, "she's *beautiful*..."

"Do you want to hold her?" Jenny asked quietly.

When Beckett nodded, Jenny carefully passed the pink, swaddled bundle over to her. "Hi," Beckett cooed to the little girl, "I'm your auntie Katie..."

Castle watched Beckett and the infant, his heart overflowing with love and pride. "Have you decided on a name?" he asked Ryan.

Esposito nudged Lanie awake as Ryan stalled in responding to Castle's question. "Yeah...we wanted to wait to tell everyone all at once," Ryan told the group quietly. He shared a silent conversation with his wife before announcing, "Her name is Alexis Margaret O'Malley-Ryan."

Alexis gasped loudly at the announcement. "You didn't..."

Jenny nodded, relaxing in the embrace of her husband. "We couldn't think of anyone else we'd want our daughter to grow up to be like. And since this little one is likely to be the last normal child anyone in this bunch is ever likely to have...naming her after you just seemed to fit, I guess."

Alexis' eyes started to well up with tears. "Thank you. I'm...I'm honored."

"Honored ones," a new voice chimed in, "we wish to pay our respects."

Most of the people in the room simply stared at the group in front of them, confused as to who the five men in orange robes were. Beckett and Ryan, however, each let out a quiet gasp as they recognized the men almost instantly. "You are always welcome among us," Ryan told the men quietly, "I'm just surprised to see you here."

Jenny was even more confused by her husband's welcoming attitude toward the five strange men in front of her. _Honey?_ she asked through their mind-link, _Who are these guys?_

_Remember the men I told you about, the Guardians who came before us_? When Jenny nodded, Ryan added, _these are the guys._

Jenny's eyes widened as the information she got from her husband sank in. "N-nice to meet all of you," she greeted the men, nervously.

Lobsang seemed to be acting as the spokesman for the group. "Honored bride of the Mùshī," he told Jenny, "I believe you are aware that, until this age, the blessing has always been handed down through those who have devoted their lives to the service of the Buddha?" Jenny nodded, so Lobsang continued, "this age is the first age where the universe has seen fit to pass the Great Blessing on to women, and it is the first age where a Guardian has been blessed with the gift of a child. We wish to honor this child and her special place within the history of our order...if it would please you for us to do so."

Jenny, for her part, wasn't thinking too much about whether to be pleased by a ceremony or not...she was simply too stunned by the appearance of the spirits of five Buddhist monks in her hospital room. She nodded, giving Lobsang her silent permission to continue.

"Lièrén," Lobsang requested, "please pass the child back to her mother." When Beckett did as requested, the five monks took up places around the bed, forming a semi-circle around Jenny and her daughter. The monks then knelt at their spots around the bed and began chanting a haunting repetition of _om mani padme hum._ Castle recognized the chant as the same one he heard Tenzin chanting at the funeral of Sonam Kundun.

At the head of the bed, Lobsang projected the words of the Guardians' blessing into the minds of all in the room. _Honored daughter of the blessed ones, we promise to guide and protect you all of your days. May you live a long life worthy of those who have come before you. May you develop a kind and loving heart toward all living beings. And may you grow in wisdom and humility on this step in your journey toward enlightenment._

Not sure what else to say, Jenny echoed the blessing of the five monks the only way she knew how.

"Amen."

* * *

FBI profiler Jordan Shaw took a sip from her morning cup of coffee as she stared at the top of the pile of paperwork that she needed to fill out to close, once and for all, the investigation into the murders committed by one Jerry Tyson, aka 3XK, aka the Philadelphia Strangler. As much as she appreciated the bitter flavor of the coffee and the energy the jolt of caffeine gave her, it did *nothing* to help her with her most pressing problem of the day: how to write up a report that didn't sound like it came out of a Dungeons and Dragons novel. What was she going to say? That Tyson was apprehended by a telepath who almost killed him but was talked out of doing so by a...vampire?! She'd get laughed out of the Bureau, of that much she was sure...either that, or they would fill a storage room in the basement with 'I Want to Believe' posters and assign it to her as her new office.

Still...as hard as it was going to be for her to fill out her own report, Shaw couldn't help but wonder how much harder it had to be for the team in New York. It was obvious that they had to lie on their reports. The balancing act that would require to make sure the evidence could be presented in a court of law...the agent shuddered just thinking about it.

A knock on her office door shook Agent Shaw out of her musings. "Can I help you?" she asked the man standing in her open doorway.

"I think so...at least I *hope* so," replied the dark-haired man. Shaw couldn't help but notice that the man seemed remarkably unsure of himself for someone who was obviously another Fed. He stretched out his hand across the desk in greeting. "Agent Mark Fallon, Homeland Security."

Shaw stood up to shake the agent's hand before returning to her chair. "What can I do for the DHS today, Agent Fallon?"

Fallon closed the door to the office before he sat in the chair across from Shaw, his nervousness clearly evident. "I'm...I'm not here on official business, Agent Shaw. I heard you just got back from a big case in New York. Catching the Philadelphia Strangler? Congratulations."

"Thank you," Shaw replied cordially, sizing up Fallon's possible reasons for bringing up the New York case. "I had a fantastic team behind me."

"So I heard," Fallon replied cryptically, feeling out the conversation as he went. "How's Detective Ryan doing? Did they ever figure out...what was causing his blackouts?"

_Ah. So he's worked with them,_ thought Shaw. She decided to start feeling out the agent's level of knowledge for herself. "Much better," she responded, answering Fallon's spoken question. "He underwent an...alternative treatment, and it seems to have worked like a charm."

"And Tyson? Did they ever figure out how he died?"

Shaw shook her head...then saw a flash of recognition race across the other agent's face. "You look like you might have a theory about that, Agent Fallon..."

"I do," Fallon agreed, blushing slightly.

Shaw started to put two and two together. "Then can I be safe in assuming that you're aware of certain...other things going on in New York City?"

Fallon nodded. "I am."

Now that they had a base of information from which to work, Shaw suspected there were other forms of business that needed to be conducted at this meeting. "So, what so you need from me, Agent Fallon?"

Fallon's nerves quickly disappeared as he slipped into the intense confidence of his Homeland Security Agent personna. "First, I need to make sure you're aware of something. There are people in our line of work who would stop at nothing to get at our...friends in New York if their secrets ever became public. And I will do anything I have to to make sure that doesn't happen. Are we clear on that, Agent Shaw?"

Shaw was beginning to appreciate how good Agent Fallon must be at his job. Either that, or his interactions with the unique team in New York must have been much more intense than hers had. "Crystal clear, Agent Fallon. Not my secret to tell. To anyone."

The relief on Fallon's face spoke volumes about his level of loyalty to the people they were talking about...and that loyalty spoke volumes about his character. "There is...something else..." Fallon hinted.

Shaw regarded Fallon's enigmatic comment with a healthy dose of skepticism. "Don't tell me...is this where I get my fire opal secret agent ring?"

**_THE END_**

* * *

**_Well, folks, that's it for Double Vision! I hope you all enjoyed reading it, and that you're continuing to enjoy this series as much as I've enjoyed writing it. If you're still enjoying it, please leave a comment, even if it's just "still reading, still loving it". It's always nice to hear that you like my work...yes, I do this as much for the ego stroking as everybody else. :D. And if you're not enjoying it anymore...I would love to hear from you even more. Please let me know what you think I could do better._**

**_The Four Winds series will conclude with the next story, Ascension. Considering I want that one to be even more epic than the original story, it may be a couple of weeks before that one gets started. Sign up for an Author alert (if you haven't already) if you want to get in from Chapter 1._**


End file.
